Shot too soon
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: A collection of Caskett one shots.
1. Bump that trunk

This is apparently what happens when I get given twelve hours of new music...teenie tiny fic overload!

I have my friends fiancee to thank for that, he who, on our first meeting, hugged me, declared his new found love for a show he believed I watched and dragged the three of us off for vanilla lattes...She's lucky I love her, he's totally steal-able.

So, for Tophe, who doesn't know I do this and will therefore never know this exists mwahahaha.

* * *

_**Bump that trunk.**_

* * *

Her knuckles were white from the force of her grip on the desk, the hard wood biting into the back of her tensed thighs and her lip tight between her teeth.

Was it hot in here today?

The precinct was usually cool, or at least bearable, but Kate felt like she was melting. Her skin hot and scratchy, clothes clinging, heavy and tight, rubbing just right in the wrong places when her legs brushed or her chest expanded.

She puffed heavily, blowing a tendril of hair from her face, the moist heat of her breath doing nothing to cool her down.

She hadn't meant to do it, honestly, she swore to herself it was an accident, a _repeatable _ accident

It was just...Those pants.

And the way he wore them.

The sculptured curve of his ass pressing against the confining denim as he bent over, flexed the long thick muscles of his thighs and calves. He arched his back and she mimicked the movement subconsciously, as if his body lay over hers and she was chasing his withdrawal.

Or quickening his descent.

And she didn't groan.

She didn't.

Didn't growl or let out a low hum of appreciation for his ass as each cheek took a turn fighting with the denim. The swells of meaty flesh that had left her hands a little over four hours ago, that she could still feel tensing in her palms under the hot spray of her shower.

She didn't gasp and suddenly suck in a deep breath because staring at him bent over like that had stolen her ability to concentrate, to think of anything but him naked, to breathe.

She didn't because she was at work and that was ridiculous.

Just like it was ridiculous to accidentally on purpose, deliberately, with carefully planned and thought out malice, flick her pen so it dropped onto the floor and rolled into Castle's foot.

She hadn't done that.

For the third time in as many hours.

She hadn't nodded her assent when he flicked his questioning gaze in her direction and mimed picking up the pen. She hadn't licked her lips and smiled seductively or forced herself from her chair for a better view.

Except she had...She had done all of those things, just to stare at his ass in those pants as he bent over.

And she would do it again.

But, dammit, he had already retrieved the pen and was standing up. The confused look still on his face when he turned, took three fast steps and handed it to her.

With deliberate avoidance of his skin she took her pen back, smiling lightly, almost shyly as visions of her nails leaving red trails across his ass flooded her mind.

"Coffee?" He asked tilting his head, nodding towards her empty mug and making her head snap up quickly.

"Mmhmm." Kate nodded, swallowing, breathing...fighting the fire in her chest that was battling to consume her. Instead she followed his gaze, sweeping over the mug and lingering on the open pack of paper clips.

There had to be a good thirty left in the pack...

Her hand edged along the desk, long fingers extending to skim the box and if she could just flick it with her nail...

"Kate." His hand closed over hers, the sound of her name on his lips, intense and far too knowing, startled the heavenly swirl of heat that had been chasing around her heart. It caught at the edges and sent it in glorious cascade through her entire body.

Everything suddenly ten times hotter.

"Castle." She warned, his fingers fitting between hers as the warning served no purpose other than to expose the shudder of her voice, the quiver of excitement, fear and arousal that danced behind her words.

"Stop throwing things on the floor." He whispered darkly, his eyes on her face, penetrating her facade of carefully put together detective, skimming underneath and drawing out his friend, his partner and lover too quickly. He left her feeling open, and exposed with deadly desire, as he held her transfixed, "Stop, save it for later."

He paused, breathing steady and even, so unfair as Kate fought to keep every breath she inhaled from sounding like the gasp of a desperate fish.

"Later?" She stuttered, desperate for him to finish the thought, the slide of his thumb over the back of her hand making her skin quiver.

"I'll let you feel me up." He hummed, and she could feel it vibrate every inch of her flesh, where he touched, where he didn't yet and would soon.

Really soon if she had her way.

"Let me?" She asked breathily, trying to gain some control back, eyes teasing and watching, the thick swallow of his throat so very enticing as he heard the full extent of her need in the deep roll of her voice.

Kate reveled in the warmth of his palm, felt herself responding almost unconsciously, swiping the pad of her little finger tenderly across his pulse.

"You can feel my junk..."

Her startled laugh interrupted his words, as she snatched her hand back and covered her mouth. Her giggle escaping, freed and uncontrollable, overwhelmed and so much in love her heart felt like it was thundering against her ribs to get at him.

"...In the trunk." He finished slowly, eyes dancing as he stepped away from her desk, "Beckett your mind is filth." He winked and mumbled quietly under his breath "I love it."

With an exaggerated turn on the spot, he left her staring, biting her lip around the smile and lingering heat as she tilted her head and watched him walk away.


	2. You and I go hard at each other

_**"You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war."**_

* * *

The door slams and glass smashes, loud and hard and somewhere close by. Coats are discarded, her shoes, his jacket. Something metallic hits the wooden floor clinking and high pitched, almost painful to the ears.

Heavy growls and panting.

Keys, followed by the soft thuds of cell phones and a bag.

It all gets ignored.

Hot breath escaping through their noses when their lips refuse to part, the thrust of her hips lifting her up and into him as he reaches for her, hands yanking her in by the waist.

He growls, pulling her back with him, but doesn't break their connection. One hand drifting through her hair, down to her neck to hold her to him.

Fingers fast and sliding at the hem of her shirt across the skin of her back.

Too desperate, abandoning himself to her kiss and her hands in his hair, over his chest, touching at his face.

Bodies colliding.

Her nails rasp over the cotton of his shirt, dance across his ears, down his back, over his shoulders.

She can't keep still, a whine of need quivers into the depths of his mouth.

They kiss fiercely and she can taste the undertones of fear and love, terror and want that lie over his tongue. He's waging his own war somewhere deep inside his head, sating the torture of his mind with the feel of her against him.

Wrapping himself in her body, and the memories that they came too close yet again.

_Bullets flying too fast, loud pops that just missed both their heads as they hit the floor._

_Her body beneath his for the barest second before they were up and sprinting to safety, to death, they had no idea, they just ran._

_Heads down, as fast as possible, the length of the warehouse, her hands raised, gun poised before her._

_Kate had called at him to keep close, stay near, get down, be quiet, move fast._

_The distance suddenly too wide between them and then the bullets were coming again and he barrelled into her, dropped them both to the ground, hard and painful, her breath leaving her chest as he landed on her._

_Pinned her when she tried to sit up._

_Too close._

_The doors thrown open, Esposito and Ryan and five, ten, hundreds and hundreds of police swarming the building, surrounding them, saving them. His eyes met Kate's as she lay sprawled beneath him on the concrete, the rise of her chest, too fast, too quick with adrenalin._

_They both jumped when the shots echoed out._

_Pop._

_Pop._

_Pop._

_And it was over._

_The scream of a police car, an ambulance voices calling for them. So sudden and over so quickly._

All over.

Both safe. Both alive.

But the memory lingers and he devours her mouth, swallows her whole, traps her close and keeps her safe in the circle of his arms.

Because she's here, where she should be, clinging to him and breathing hard for the best possible reason. Castle hears the crunch of glass under his feet as he steps back, suddenly remembering she isn't wearing shoes, kicked off somewhere near her front door.

"Too close." He growls into her ear, hands spanning her thighs so he can lift her from the floor, the shards of glass at their feet a danger he can protect her from.

Her hands loop around his neck, fingers linking as she clings to him, mouth falling into the curve of his throat.

Hot, damp with the sweat of exertion, his skin still tasting of anxiety and bravery, the sticky trace of power that stains his flesh.

He threw her on the floor and saved them both.

Her tongue darts between her teeth, tasting it, swallowing it down and clinging to it. "We're ok." she moans into his skin. Telling him, telling herself and the world at large. Needing to believe it just as much as he does.

Too close.

They came too close and now they are too far apart.

Another crash of sound splinters the silence of their heavy breathing, ignored by both, an intrusion into their alone time. The repetitive thud means nothing as books fall in a cascade of forgotten words behind them. An avalanche of myth and fantasy that holds no appeal as they weave their own tale through the echoing walls of her home.

"You almost..."

"You saved me." She whispers, harshly, breathlessly, cutting him off with awe and gratitude, hips rolling so she can hook her ankles together, pull herself closer. Buttons dragging under her hands as she seeks skin, tactile proof of life.

He can't speak, doesn't whisper the word back, but always always always bleeds from every fingertip, the soft press of his lips as he sucks her earlobe into his mouth screams it with more clarity than his voice ever could.

"I am ok." She kisses his neck, tongue sliding against his thundering pulse. "I am here with you."

"It just missed your head Kate, my head..."

Her kiss silences him, lips over his, drowning out his words, and he gives in for a few seconds, pinning her to the wall of her bedroom as they finally tumble through the door.

"Too close." He says again, as if the words are trapped on repeat in his head and he can't escape them.

"Too close," She agrees, her hands slide down his chest, feet landing on the floor as she reaches for his belt. Tugging him in, eyes blazing and locked on his lips, "Not close enough."


	3. Play a video game

**"Play a video game."**

* * *

The video comes on the second day of his trip and he laughs because for her...it's a little sentimental. Kind and cute and sweet and she's mushy.

He loves that she's mushy.

That even though she will tease him outrageously for his very deeply ingrained romantic streak, his tendency to overdo the grand gesture, she has her own sense of romance. An innate Kate like approach to love and coupley-ness.

She takes the simple things they share and sees the meaning, she loves the routine and the pattern of the things that make them work.

The things that make them _them_.

And she told him she missed him first thing this morning, when she was half asleep, her voice rich and alluring over the pillow as if she was beside him in bed.

She does miss him, clearly if she's sending him video's.

Castle inhales and presses play.

The camera shakes just a bit and then he sees the steady swirl of little wooden stick, the rich dark liquid dancing around it, and he realizes she must be holding it with one hand.

She drops the little stick spoon onto her desk, and turns the cup around so he can read the message across it, messy letters in her own steady scrawl.

_Morning Castle. x_

And he smiles when he realizes she's sharing her first cup of coffee with him.

From however many thousands of miles away.

She hums in the background swivels the camera and he can see another cup, at the edge of her desk next to his chair, the lid still firmly in place. Her thumb skirts it and she sighs, taps at the cup twice and re-angles the camera.

Even though he's not there, she bought him a cup of coffee...

He smiles, his heart clenching, because that's what they do now, it's a habit, a pattern, trading off days and keeping the other fed with a regular supply of caffeine.

It's the way they start and end their day, it's a good excuse to get up and move around in the middle of a difficult case. It's the taste on her tongue and the scent of her skin.

It's everything, and it's them.

He hears footsteps, another heavy sigh and the video cuts off.

* * *

"Hey boss." Espo drops down in the seat Castle usually inhabits and the man grins at her widely his eyes on the other cup.

As if it's spare.

It's not.

"Hands off Esposito, don't make me hurt you." Her eyes blaze, a little harder than she means to, suddenly territorial over a cup of coffee. But it's Castle's and if he's not here to drink it...

Esposito scoffs, rolls his eyes and shoves away from her desk.

Kate pulls the other cup, Castle's cup, towards her, if anyone is going to reap the rewards of his absence, however few and far between they may be, it will be her.

* * *

The second video zings to his phone when he's in the shower and he doesn't find it until he's crawling into bed.

She's still at the precinct, clearly a hard case, a long day and it's barely thirty seconds long.

His chair at her desk, empty.

Then he hears a clunk, a sigh of pleasure and a muffled laugh.

The camera dips low as the devil woman kicks off her heels and drops her feet across his seat. Crossing her ankles she hums and the video ends.

He flips the phone and calls her. No pretense. He just wants to hear her voice.

* * *

She hears the elevator arrive behind her, a muffle and a shout, men barreling through the doors yelling, and she's in her shoes and on her feet in barely two seconds.

There is a scuffle and Beckett has the suspect that somehow punched Ryan pinned to the ground, her knee in his back, as the sound of her phone shatters the silence that has now fallen.

She glances over her shoulder for a fleeting moment.

Wishing...

Then she tightens her grip. "Let's get this jackass into interrogation." She barks, and they follow.

* * *

The third is his favorite, the one he keeps, forwards to two different email accounts and downloads. He's not losing it, or accidentally deleting it.

The camera is balanced on his pillow, angled towards her face as she lays on her side and stares at it.

Lost in thought, sleepy or just blinking back thinking of him, he's never quite sure and he doesn't ask.

He likes the mystery.

The semi darkness of the room enhancing the soft look in her eyes, the wave of hair across her pillow. He loves that she sinks down just enough for him to see that even though he's away, she's sleeping in his bed.

Their bed, maybe, one day.

She sighs, she yawns. "I love you."

The video ends.

And he starts packing.

* * *

The first video is confusing and she twists her head...

It's his shoe landing in a bag.

His shoe?

* * *

The second, no more than ten minutes later, no less confusing.

A slab of concrete and a wolf whistle.

"What the hell?" Kate ponders, replaying it.

The man is insane.

* * *

The third is longer, the view through the window of a moving car.

Traffic speeding past, he must be exploring the city. Other cars, bikes, people, so very many people, all streaming past the lens in a rainbow blur of color and sound.

Someone speaks and asks his destination.

His response makes her drop the phone.

* * *

The fourth, blurry as her hands shake because he can't...it's a week too soon and if he was coming home surely he would have told her, starts off slowly.

The lid of a coffee cup the only thing visible, his gentle hum and the whir of machinery.

She scrunches her eyes confused, it sounds familiar, but she's watching as the screen tilts, no more coffee in view, just doors.

That open.

And her heart explodes, thumping crazy and loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Elevator doors that part to reveal the bustle of the precinct. Esposito strolls past, lifts a hand to wave and is shushed so loudly and ferociously that Kate squeaks out a laugh, covers her mouth with her fingers and squeezes tight to the phone.

The image lifts and zooms, the boys empty desk, then Castle's empty chair and finally the back of Kate's head, her body scrunched over, phone in hand.

He takes a shallow breath, his voice soft and awed, "I missed you."

And the screen goes black.

She closes her eyes, stands slowly gripping the desk for balance because her world is spinning, dancing on a beautifully tilted axis, "You came home early." She breathes, eyes still closed, body frozen now she's upright.

"Turn around Kate."


	4. We are family

_**"We are family."**_

* * *

The long road stretches out before them, a quick and sudden detour in their day that hasn't lessened their enjoyment. They tease and laugh, they stopped for snacks and now Castle hums quietly, his hand on her thigh as she drives.

He opens his window and lets in the smells of summer and the mid afternoon breeze. He watches her behind the wheel, in control and gorgeous until she rolls her eyes at him and he gives in to his need to _check_.

Castle leans, resting against Kate's shoulder so he can look at the back seat.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kate smile, feels the brush of her knuckles over his. Slow and reassuring. "They still asleep?" She asks, her voice low and quiet just incase.

He nods, taking in the curved fingers and tilting heads, the way they snuggle. He turns back around and smiles at Kate, sighs happy and content, "Yeah still asleep."

Kate raises herself in the seat to look in the mirror, eyes soft and her smile breaking wide, "Cute."

The breeze filters in cooling them enough that the heat of the sun remains pleasant, not uncomfortable or distracting. His fingers squeeze, "Who woulda thought it?" He ponders aloud, turning his hand over in her lap so they can lace their fingers together.

"Hmm?"

"Us on the road..." His eyes widen and he smiles at her, full of love as she catches on.

"Oh, the open road. So very domestic with two kids in the back..." She grins happily when he laughs, watching the trees and the fields, the cows and horses that flash past the windows, it's ridiculously story book like, beautiful and spectacular, nature at its best.

"Fast asleep at last." Castle yawns, covering his mouth with his hand, half wishing he could nap too, half content to enjoy the peace with her. It won't last long.

"Yeah," Kate agrees, "the fighting was wearing a little thin."

"It was all the sugar." He replies, glancing out of the window and away from her accusing gaze. "You gave them chocolate not me." He says, raising his hand in innocence when she glares at him. He doesn't have to see it to know she does, he can feel the force of it over his skin.

"Chocolate has a calming effect on the equilibrium." She grumbles over their old argument once again, "It's been proven."

Her fingers leave his, but not because she's angry. She fiddles with the music, turning it on so that low, gentle, sounds filling the car. Her hand drops back onto her leg, seeking his once more, tugging as he turns to face her.

"Mmhmm," Castle squeezes her thigh, laughs again, so much happiness on this unscheduled detour, "that's your excuse and you're sticking to it huh?"

She fights it, bites down on her lips to trap it away, but it's no use, she laughs, "Yes," she nods, "yes I am."

Silence spills between them, nothing but the rhythmic breathing of those in slumber and near silent music as Kate slows down.

"They are cute though." Castle says quietly, almost to himself, pointing to a road sign as Kate turns the car, nearing their destination.

"Maybe," She says tapping the back of her hand to release her thigh, so she can pull the car to a stop, "we should have another." She grins at him, cutting the engine and removing the keys.

She waits for a reaction, but there isn't one just a contemplative hum.

"A girl this time." He agrees without agreeing, third time's the charm after all.

Not that the other two aren't charming.

"Sassy, with dark hair." His hand lifts a strand behind her ear, watching her tenderly.

"Yep, works as a Medical Examiner to pay the bills."

"Gonna be a handful."

"Hard to ground, even harder to argue with." Kate opens the door and slides out, lifts a hand to Lanie as she stands. The victims body spread on the ground at her feet and Lanie taps her wrist, they're late.

"Scary." Castle shudders.

Kate tells him to shush, even as she laughs and shakes her head. Her heart hammering a little too much from their silly musings. But they're here now, game over...or on pause for now. "Better wake them up."

Castle turns in the seat, holding fast to the memory, to that look of longing that filled Kate's eyes as they joked about kids. He stores it away with his own...for later.

Grabbing his phone and angling the camera just so, waiting for the slam of Kate's door to wake them Castle snaps a shot of the snuggled up and partially drooling Ryan and Esposito.

"Hey boys," He grins, calling to them as their sleepy eyes snap open wide leaving them looking dazed and confused, still curled around each other. "Say cheeeseee."


	5. Ring the alarm

Happy belated birthday to 4evercaskett, may the candles on your cake bring you nothing but JOY! ;)

* * *

**"Ring the alarm..."**

* * *

"Castle..."

His name is a long drawn out cry that he captures and nurtures within his mouth, cherishing the sound, prolonging her deep throaty groan as it caresses his tongue. Swallowing it down so he can breathe in the smoky wave of her desire.

He can't speak or cry out, his mouth too full of her as they both slide through the last rolling wave of pleasure and collapse back down into the bed.

Shaking and quivering.

No sooner have they fallen, naked and feverish, than they are reaching for each other again. His hand winding around the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss as she finds his fingers at her hip and laces them together tight  
with her own.

"That was..."

Their lips brush and she smiles, "Mmmmmmmm...no words."

He laughs still trying to catch his breath, tipping his head until he rests against her forehead. The image of her dressed in black and shaking out her hair as she straddles him is forever burned in his brain.

Every image of her is imprinted on the inside of his eyelids and he lets out a shaky happy sigh, replaying them slowly.

"Nikki clearly does it for you Castle." Kate giggles, sated and silly, he traces her shoulder feeling the shiver of happiness tumble along her spine as he chases it with tips of his fingers.

His voice is as soft as his touch, "Hey, you were the one who brought her into the bed."

"I didn't see you rushing to kick her out."

Castle puffs out his chest, breath falling in a more even rhythm as he comes down slowly from their sudden and very intense high. "Well no, she was being whispered to me by the sultry goddess of inspiration." He sighs at the memory, "Wrapped in black silk and working really hard to get her name on the front cover of my next..."

Her hand lands over his mouth "Ok ok," she tries to roll her eyes but they are just about managing to stay open, a glorious lingering heat rippling it's way through her veins, "I get that you liked it."

"I more than...What?"

Castle's arms fall away from her as Kate sits up her eyes wide. She's no longer smiling but her entire body is suddenly aware, arching away from him and prone for readiness. "Can you smell smoke?"

"Smoke? I...no...wait yes." Castle sits up beside her in the bed, their eyes scanning the room. It could be rolling in from the beach, maybe a party, a late night barbeque or a...

"Oh crap!"

Castle leaps up his arms flailing wildly, thrusting Kate away from him.

"What? Castle what the hell?"

But Castle is up moving faster than she has ever seen before, naked, he navigates the large wooden headboard, hops over her discarded negligee and skids to a stop beside the table. "We rocked the bed." He bellows, reaching out tentatively and hopping on the spot.

"Castle, now is really not the time..."

"No I mean we rocked it," He gestures madly over his head, "the tables on fire we knocked over the candles."

"Oh god." Kate throws herself off of the mattress, catching sight of the flickering amber flame and she spins on the spot reaching for a vase. A one handed graceful twirl manouver sends the flowers in cascade to the floor before she launches the contents at the fire...

And Castle.

There is a hiss as the water drowns out what Kate can now see was a very very small, in fact single tipped over tea-light candle, fire.

"Oh...Castle." She swallows hard, fighting the urge to giggle, swallows again and chokes giving in, "Oh, I am so very..." She shakes her head, the words trapped behind the swell of laughter that rises in her chest, "So sorry, I am so..." She laughs, dropping the vase to floor and covering her mouth as she bends double.

Her eyes close, her hand to her chest as she laughs and when she opens them again she tries to catch her breath. Kate falters, standing straight, all the air in the room having evaporated. Sucked clean from her lungs when their eyes meet and Castle stares at her with nothing short of animalistic lust, dripping wet and drinking her in.

"Castle." She warns, his name catching her lips as it leaves her mouth, laughter turning to a simmering wave of heat that trails her body when he starts towards her. His eyes almost black, so dark she takes a step back, and then another as he just keeps on coming, nothing but determination and the glistening shimmer of his damp body.

"Castle you're all wet." Kate holds up a hand in weak protest, giving in when his arms wrap around her and tug her into his chest.

"So were you five minutes ago." He growls into her neck, kissing and licking at her skin and laughing when he hears her moan, feels her shiver. "And you will be again," he promises, turning her on the spot, "Shower now, you can warm me up!"


	6. That's the sound of the police

For Steph, who asked for it. Not humor but I still class it as romance...

* * *

**_"That's the sound of the police."_**

* * *

His head snaps up when he hears the sirens.

Dozens and dozens of them casting shrill echoes of terror through his chest. High pitched blasts sending wave after wave of panic ricocheting around his body.

It's the sound of the police...or the ambulances, flooding the streets, racing towards him.

Bringing her to him.

And the comfort he once found in the noise has disappeared. Now all it leaves is a faint echo of _what if? _ And this deep stabbing pain that he can't get a grip on no matter how hard he presses his fist into the wall of his chest.

Another blast, a high pitched WOOP and he imagines the vehicles mounting the curb below.

Every little movement bringing her closer and he wants her close, he needs her here no matter what.

He jumps to his feet, one hand covering his face because he suddenly cannot bear the smell. This place feels too empty and sterile, so hostile all of a sudden, the stale bitter bite of bile rising in his throat and he swallows it back, his hands running through his hair.

But this simple touch feels like a betrayal and he forces himself to stop. Forces his white knuckled grip to fall to his sides instead. Because the lingering trace of his fingers through his hair feels like _her _ when she brushed past him, fast and quick and secretive less than an hour ago.

It feels like her goodbye when she couldn't say it for fear of being seen or overheard.

It feels like he's already replacing her touch.

And no, no he won't do that, he want's her fingers dancing across his scalp as she pulls him closer, he wants her, wants her to do it again...if she can.

Oh god.

He sucks in a shallow breath that hurts, every cell in his body blazing in pain as the oxygen floods his system.

The pain of _maybe_, and he has to get up, he has to do something, to not be stuck immobile as she...

His feet are moving before he realizes and he traces a path, an unending circuit around the room, through the chairs, past the desk where pity-filled eyes balk and avoid him every time.

Past the elevator doors, a poster he's seen so many times, he should know it off by heart but he doesn't even register it's existence.

And back again.

The sirens louder, drowning out the pounding in his chest but not the horror flooding his blood, the fear that makes his heart contract every time he replays the words

_"Officer down."_

No...

No.

He's trying to calm and soothe his frantic heart not terrify it more by imagining things. He wasn't there, he doesn't know, he was just told to arrive...to wait.

To meet them.

That they would need him, it was bad.

How bad and for who? He doesn't know.

He hits the button for the elevator, deciding he needs to go lower, be closer, when the doors open he wants to be there.

But the minute his finger hits the button he realizes he has done the wrong thing. What if four floors below they are doing the same in panic, in desperation, and he's calling the elevator to him, selfishly, stupidly.

He growls and is finally acknowledged by the person behind the desk. Eyes lifting, pity mixing through with worry, years of dedicated service allowing a unique perspective on the reactions of humans in crisis and Castle can feel the man sizing him up.

He must not gauge him as a threat because nothing happens and Castle starts retracing his footsteps around the room. Intent in his trail of distraction as his mind weaves images of destruction, the ultimate decimation of his world and the life he had planned.

It all centers around what happens when those doors open and still, still, there is no movement from the machinery within. There is no sign that they are bringing her any closer than before.

He grinds his teeth, re-fists his hands and starts the circuit all over again.

Sometime around the fourth lap, when the sirens have dwindled and the whir of the machinery at last, at last, at last comes to life Castle finally notices his hands are empty.

He didn't bring her coffee.

And now that seems like the ultimate clue to what fate has planned here.

The ruination of his existence.

_He didn't bring her coffee._

And the elevator is three floors away and his whole body is pivoting towards the doors, his entire life balanced on a pinprick moment in time.

His heart pounding out it's last beats surely, surely because any second now he will know.

And he didn't bring her coffee.

Two floors away, then one, riding up with news, and her, Kate, his detective, trapped in a metal box as she ascends.

And he paces waiting.

The doors fly open, a bed rushes past him and Castle whirls on the spot tracking it, moving with it, wondering wondering, all the time. He wants to yell and ask questions but the medics are barking orders and the doctors are demanding, the nurses clearing space around the body...

Everyone suddenly on their feet.

His eyes drop not wanting to know now, so desperate for news before and now... he can't bring himself to look. But he's stupid, so ridiculous, because looking at the floor all he can see are the tracks left in blood, the wheels of the bed and the footprints as people run past him.

The red spread that creeps everywhere.

And the world is falling apart and he has felt this pain before and now, now after everything they have been through, the way she loves him and he loves, completely un-endingly loves, every frustrating beautiful inch of her, now there is no way he will survive it.

His heart is shredding itself in his chest, the blood rushing through the channels of his ears trying to convince him he's at the beach and the beautiful sounds of his demise are actually the rip roaring swell of the ocean on a stormy day.

If only...

If only that's what it was but it's not, it's...

Someone says his name...

And the universe shatters into a million pieces.

Castle turns on the spot, not believing his lying ears and soaring heart because it can't be, it can't, it can't.

"Castle?"

He turns again, following the sound, realizing it's not coming from the rapidly disappearing bed, but from the elevator and he closes his eyes for the briefest second, readying himself.

"Castle."

There is relief in the word and tiredness, aching grief that he can't bring himself to focus on yet, just her voice.

He turns, breath sharp, chest burning and his hands curled so tight he can feel the cramp of his muscles and finally, finally he can bring himself to open his eyes.

To find her, Kate.

Alive.

Her pristine white blouse now literally blood red on one side and misted pink sprays dotted on the other, her hair plastered to her face, red and wet and glossy, far too glossy.

"Castle."

There is a deep rush of breath when she lifts her head and sees him, her voice soft and breaking around his name, like she's been clinging to the word for far too long and her tongue has finally lost its grip and she's slipping...she's going to fall.

And he has to catch her before she does.

And it all becomes so clear.

There was a reason why fate intervened and he forgot to bring her coffee, a reason his hands are open and empty, he realizes, when the rising swell of his chest sends him surging towards her.

There was a reason fate made him track the same path around the stupid waiting room, weaving through chairs and pot plants and desks, so he knew the quickest route to her quivering body.

There was a reason.

It was so he could get to her before she crumbled and before the tears came. So he could draw her from the elevator before the doors closed and cradle her face.

Hold onto her and kiss her.

Kiss his relief into the suddenly tear stained curves of her cheeks, the edge of her lips, her mouth and her gently closing eyelids.

So he could wrap her in his arms and tell her over and over and over again that he loves her.

In the crowded hospital waiting room, in front of everyone they know, everyone they work and live with, admire, respect and fear.

In front of the world as they know it, he holds her in his arms and tells her over and over and over again, not caring who hears.


	7. This is us

_**"This is us, this is love and this is where I sleep."**_

* * *

The long, low, throaty moan shatters the silence of his bedroom, curls around his ears and his heart, settles like a warm glow in his chest. His eyes feel gritty from lack of sleep and he can only guess how much worse she feels. He snuck in a nap on the second day, an hour that had little effect, but it's still more than Kate and from the corner of his eye he sees her swaying on the spot, the phone in her hand lowering to the table.

Case over.

It's like a weight has been lifted and another of a whole other kind has taken its place. Shifting in the darkness, an invisible cloud of exhaustion surges up out of the surrounding silence of black abandon and case resolution.

It rises up and settles over her.

It catches him off guard when she topples into him, forcing him to walk her backwards to the bed, a sound of pleasure and contentment, almost overwhelming in its intensity, let loose and neither of them say a word when he pulls her top up over her head and quietly removes her bra.

With a deep low sigh, she arches against him when his fingers slide over warm bare skin, arms wrapping around his neck. Another soft moan slips past her lips before she mumbles silly nothings into the surrounding sanctuary of his room.

Her head falls briefly against his chest as if the weight of holding it up by herself is too much and Castle skims his hands down her back, pressing at the muscles on either side of her spine.

Her lips rest at his throat, lashes beating infrequently and slow, the fight to stay awake leaking out of her.

Drawing her in closer to his chest when his fingers pop the button of her pants, he lets them fall to the floor before he steps them back towards the bed.

Her eyes are fighting to stay open as Kate collapses into the sheets and blankets, burrows under like she's never coming out and Castle turns from the bed to drop her clothes on the chair and leave her to sleep.

Kate let's the dark and quiet wash over her, drawing the waves of pleasure from her in another soft shudder. Bones cracking, muscles stretching in bliss, the bed is heavenly wide and soft...and lonely.

"Castle...?" The word barely lifts above the bed and he smiles into the darkness at the demand in her tone, the way it overpowers the sleepy edge to her voice.

Castle surges towards her, his own exhaustion propelling him forwards, fired by his need to be close, and his lips are at her ear and the solid length of his body at her back in seconds.

"Shh, sleep Kate."

"You too...with me." She sighs, soft and sleepy, her toes pressing into his shin, cold feet seeking warmth.

He smiles into the soft wave of her hair, his mind suddenly thrown back to years and years before...

Before there was a them, before there was love, back to the days of lusting after her, when banter was fueled by annoyance not friendship. When poking at her was an amusing pastime and getting her to smile a challenge not a necessity.

And he laughs into her hair, his body shaking, trembling, when he hears her groan.

It's almost a warning, but he can hear her words so clearly.

_We could always just cuddle Castle._

And he's taking it so far out of context that he can't help but laugh at himself...his arm worming its way through the mountain of blankets she's cocooned herself in, under her neck and wrapping around her chest. He tugs her in tight against him, their heads falling onto the same pillow, and he feels her relax finally.

Kate pulls his other arm up from her waist, to her face, kissing lazily at his knuckles, she lays her lips over the palm of his hand, warm hot breath parting in another sleepy kiss.

Her mouth, gentle and slack, stays pressed to him as if she's too tired to move it, before she's tucking his hand under her chin. Thick and strong, his fingers slipping between her own, his arm over her chest and Kate uses his body like a blanket that she drapes over her back, their joined fingers curling together.

"Sleep Kate." He whispers again, his lips ghosting over her cheek.

We could _always_ just cuddle Castle.

There she was all those years ago, chanting their word like an omen of things to come, both of them clueless...

"Sleep with me Castle..."

And he doesn't laugh, doesn't tease or make jokes, he just hums against the pulse in her temple because he can hear the simple truth that lies hidden in that statement.

_Stay with me, cuddle with me, love me, let me love you, let me keep you._

There could be a thousand words in that single sentence, her one line plea in the shadows of his room, and a million more in his two syllable reply.

He nuzzles into her hair, breathes the word softly into Kate's ear as she yawns.

"Always."


	8. Don't ask me what you know is true

_**"Don't ask me what you know is true."**_

* * *

He's writing when she finds him, his fingers living for the words that spill from him with ease, moving fast across the keys.

Flying.

Soaring through the story.

And she's going to ruin it all.

"Castle..."

She waits but nothing changes, her tone doesn't resonate within him, the cadence of his name isn't enough to alert him, there is no nuance of difference that he picks up on.

And so he continues to write unaware.

"Castle?"

She watches his fingers, pounding out a mythical rhythm, storyteller, weaver of tales, a skill as old as time. He hears nothing beyond the world he lives in, the moment that exists around him.

And she has to break the spell. No more secrets, she has to tell him.

"Castle, I can't do this anymore." She says quietly, as if she's hiding from the words and changing her mind.

She's not...she can't, they can't.

His head lifts slowly as her voice finally breaks through the wall he creates with his words. It doesn't comically snap up and his eyes don't widen to the size of dinner plates. But when he looks at her, his eyelids blinking rapidly, there is a sad resignation in his eyes that hurts her heart. It's as though, after all this time, he still just...doesn't get it.

His hands clench, his beautiful hands the only part of his body that give away the emotion he holds steadily from his face. White knuckles and taut muscles, his nails digging into the desk, his fingertips pinpricks of white.

But his face remains impassive with the slow steady lift of his head until his eyes find hers, bright sparks in the dimly lit office.

"It's too much." She continues softly when he barely nods letting her know he's listening. She let's go of the breath she's been holding, "It's affecting my job."

It sounds like an excuse, she doesn't mean it to. They don't need excuses or justification, she just needs him to hear her out and hopefully agree with her it's for the best.

"I can't concentrate." Her fingers toy with the cotton at her thighs, letting the material sway against her skin, feeling suddenly shy. "I...get distracted."

"By m...us?" His voice has a hard edge and she holds herself back, wanting to cross the room and wrap her arms around him.

"Your hands. I lose myself watching them." She confesses, ignoring his stuttered gasp, "When you're near me, it hurts." She lifts her eyes, finds his closed as he listens.

"I didn't realise." His voice quivers but his eyes remain shut.

"It hurts so much that I can't..."

"I'm sorry." There is no emotion in the words as they hit the space between them, but his knuckles grow whiter still and his eyes finally open.

"I can't do it..." She's scared and she closes her eyes to hide, but it does no good. She's raw when it comes to him, open and vulnerable.

Exposed.

But Kate forces herself to carry on. She has to say it. The deep breath painful as it leaves her chest.

"We have to tell people, whatever the consequences I can't do this in secret anymore Castle we..."

His chair crashes backwards and he's on his feet when she opens her eyes.

His palms land either side of the laptop, slamming down so hard she jumps at the sound.

"Castle?"

"You're not breaking up with me?"

Her heart clenches so painfully in her chest that she has to press her hand to the frantic beat, her palm sliding up to scrunch her nightshirt tight in her fist.

"No," Kate stutters, knees weak, "no ..no I'm..."

Then he's in front of her, the door closing at her back as he presses her into it, gathering a fistful of her hair he angles her head towards his and steps between her legs.

All consuming.

Invading.

Warm.

"You're not breaking up with me?" He breathes over her face, hot and needy, his voice harsh and his grip bordering on painful.

"No." Her hands map his chest, one over his heart the other tilting his jaw to make him look down at her. "No!"

It sets off a spark.

An ignition of fire and fury, his hands lifting until she's wrapping her legs around him, naked thighs rasping over thick, rough, denim and her back still grinding against the door.

There is flame, feisty, naked and pure, dancing behind his eyes, but fear lingers there too.

She did that, she _does _ that, still...everyday she puts that fear into him.

"_I'm_ frustrating?" She moans when his fingers graze her chest. "How do you still not get..."

He silences her with his mouth, licking across her lips, down the column of her throat, the thudding pulse in her neck and down the low v of her shirt. When he can't get any lower touching skin he slides hot and wet over cotton, lips wide against the shirt, sucking her into his mouth through the thin material.

"This is exactly...what I meant," she croaks urging him on when his mouth freezes, and he stills to listen, "oh don't stop...I need..." Her nails sharp through his shirt, find skin and she clings to him, "people to understand why I look like a lovesick fool." The words leave her mouth in an uncontrolled rush as he flicks his tongue lazily.

His incessant fondling driving her crazy and she arches away from the door, seeking more of him, "I want to hold your hand when you bring me lunch and our friends are there."

Her breath is embarrassingly loud, his mouth ridiculously warm and inviting, "I want..." She wants so many things, "to kiss you hello and goodbye." And all the other times in between.

She gasps, thuds back into the door as his mouth moves higher and she feels his teeth. He lingers over the scar that in five short months he has transformed from a horrible vicious memory into a marker of touch, a talisman of love and pleasure.

"I want to stumble into you and feel your arms around me after a long day and not care who sees."

His hand at her thigh squeezes tight and he stands. His arms encompass her body, lifting her away from the door, carrying her through his office.

She rises up, firm weight in his palms, kissing his neck and whispering in his ear, "I want to boast about everything we do." She ripples against him like turbulent waters, caught in a tide of rising desire, "I want to make Lanie jealous." She states boldly, rolling her entire body against him.

She hears him laugh at that, a heavy relieved chuckle that lifts her hair away from her neck, still disbelieving, but getting closer.

He stops at the bed, her feet unhooking from his waist, long legs unwrapping to slide around him until she's standing before him again. His hands in her hair hold her face as he growls. "I want the world to know..."

"Damn the consequences." She agrees quietly.

"No more secrets," he whispers, his hot breath ghosting over her cheek.

She finds his face, let's him and his love, his warmth and tenderness fill her up from the inside. Her eyes drifting slowly, opening and closing, blinking and drinking him in.

"You are _not _ breaking up with me." Kate smiles at the command in his voice, the demand and need, the fierce conviction.

It's no longer a question, he's refusing to give her the option.

Good...

Maybe he finally gets it.

"No," Kate replies, "I'm not, but..."

His mouth moves across her jaw, lips hot and weaving a path of destruction, her undoing, until he rests at the edge of her mouth.

"I can't do this anyone," she states again, holding him to her, gaze firm, no escaping, he won't let her and she trembles happily with the knowledge, "I love you and I want everyone to know."


	9. To the master bedroom

I got ridiculously excited when I realized these were actual lyrics to** 'Monster Mash" ;)**

* * *

_**"...In the Castle east, to the master bedroom where the vampires feast..."**_

* * *

She's lingering above him, the long wave of her hair falling over one shoulder. Her hand on his chest to steady herself when their tangled bodies break her rhythm, the alcohol still blazing through her veins and she laughs.

Wild and free.

She's still wearing part of her costume, the mask a latex band that hides nothing. Her eyes, bright and twinkly in the candlelight, focus on him, drift as she laughs again and he can't help it, he smiles.

"Mmmm." Her eyes fall to his lips, he follows their path, the slow languid blink when she opens them and he knows she's thinking about kissing him. That she's waiting for it, knows it's coming, and her whole body, naked, not a stitch of clothing separating them, shivers against his.

He opens his palms wide, stretches his fingers and runs them up her bare sides. He shudders when he feels the rapidity of her breath, the steady increase in her heartbeat and the tight squeeze of her hips at his waist.

He curves around the slender arch of her back, roaming as high as he can reach when she has him trapped beneath her. Fingers wide over her stomach, the soft quivering muscles shaking faster under his adoring touch, hissing when he moves higher to her ribs, lower to her pelvis.

Her hands land flat on his stomach, reciprocating and tactile, the need burning bright within her behind that masked facade and he smiles again.

She slides higher, touching at his chest, nails over his nipples, up to his collar bone until she rests on his shoulder joints. Both hands pinning him, effectively stopping all tantalization of her sensitive body.

Kate lets out a long slow sigh, happiness tripping past her lips with the heated breath and she starts to lower herself. Falling into his waiting warmth, the slowest descent she's capable of as she snickers with the effects of the alcohol and with the waiting tender body of her partner and lover laying bare before her.

Her hair skims his chest, pooling in a molten mass over his heart, their faces barely a breath apart. She breathes out, chases the air with her tongue and deliberately skims the seam of his mouth, catching another giggle that wants to explode from her chest when he gasps.

Her lips part, his succulent pout calling to her and she wants to taste it, bite at the juicy flesh and hear him gasp again.

Groan, moan and mumble her name before she really lets loose and the only thing he can do is chant it like mystical sorcery in the darkness of his bedroom.

But she freezes mid movement, his hands sliding up her back, nails skimming the bone and muscles making her eyelids flutter at the simple blissful sensation. She quakes and moans, low and throaty, enjoying every second of it.

His fingers curl through her hair, one hand palming the back of her neck and angling her head towards him, the other touching feather-light against her cheeks.

The fingers in her hair tangle, the hand on her face drifts, and Kate smiles down at him softly as he pulls the mask from her face, tracing the single red line left on her cheek. The masks imprint on her skin he meanders across, tilting his head to watch when she presses her face into his hand.

He pulls her forwards, his lips hovering under her own, a teasing rush of heated air dancing from his mouth and into hers, over her tongue, snaking it's way through her chest and settling low in her stomach, a wisp of flame and a gentle smolder he readies before it becomes an inferno.

He holds her face, her hair falling and shielding them from the flickering light. "Hi," He mumbles, before he pulls her closer, watching as her eyes drift shut.

Her mouth parts around his bottom lip, sucking it, her teeth biting down as his body jerks and his arms wrap around her, tipping her into his chest and rolling her onto the pillows next to him.

Their tangled limbs entwine further when he lays her back, drapes himself over her and deepens the kiss. He weaves spells across her skin, a devilish trickery behind their dancing tongues that leave her breathless, her body aching for more.

The treats, the delights of their touches and the endless joy of being with him hers to devour and when he pulls away from her lips, his mouth hot and warm over her neck, sucking her skin, Kate gasps back, "Happy Halloween."


	10. It's for the best you didn't listen

I have no idea where this came from so I just went with it...

* * *

**_"It's for the best you didn't listen..."_**

* * *

Kate's backing through the door with her phone pressed against her ear talking to Esposito a little louder than she should be, but the crime scene is pretty deafening. She grunts, dropping the heavy glass door, and sticks the finger of her free hand in her other ear to drown out the sirens and the catcalls, the back and forth of the uni's on scene.

"...Something about financials on all of the victims." She catches, "But Ryan said he was going to call Castle cos you weren't picking up."

"Well that's because you won't get off the line, Espo you've never been this chatty before, I'm getting suspicious." She grins into the phone, nodding at an officer she passes. "Anyway, Castle's not with me, I left him in the car so just tell Ryan to call me when you..."

Her fingers tighten around the phone as it shakes within her grasp, dirt and dust and grit hit her face, a heat wave billowing towards her, rippling over her skin.

The explosion is so loud, so intense and forceful that the glass on all the windows behind her immediately blow out.

Kate ricochets with the pressure of it, her heels no support as her entire body careens sideways and backwards, shard after shard of flying glass and debris fired at her.

Something slices her cheek as she falls and she yelps, dropping her phone and touching her face. When she pulls her fingers away they are dripping with blood and her hands are shaking.

The sirens start up again as she lands heavily on the ground, the sound coming in muffled waves as her ears adjust to the after effects of the booming sound of an explosion, so close by, her head lifts and she scans the area trying to work out what in the hell just happened.

She quakes onto her knees, ignores the pain of glass as it stabs at her palms and her shins, needing to find her feet, to stand, to see, but the moment she's upright, everything tilts, goes blurry, bile rising in her stomach...

Everything spins even as she stands perfectly still, shimmering waves of light across her vision, rushing in her ears, the rhythm through her stomach - like she's on a boat - makes her suddenly and ferociously nauseous.

And the last thing she sees before she passes out is the space where she parked her car and left her partner, now empty, devoid of everything but the debris of the explosion that ripped it apart.

* * *

He's two blocks away when he hears the sound.

A cup of coffee in each hand, decaf for her because of...well _reasons _ they aren't talking about right now. After dinner, she said after dinner, and he's smiling like the lovesick fool he happily tells everyone he is when the sound, so catastrophic in it's intensity, rips it's way through the streets, collides with him, body and soul, making him drop both cups on the ground.

The noise retreats just as fast, sirens rapidly filling the air, his eyes bulging from his head as he turns and faces the direction it came from, coffee dripping across the front of his shoes.

He shoves the guy next to him out of the way as his heart drops into his stomach, his world narrowing to the thin invisible thread of light that connects him to her.

And as he runs his entire being chants a single phrase.

_Oh god, Kate?_

* * *

When she comes to it takes less than a second for her to remember she made him stay in the car.

She wanted to be in and out of the building as fast as possible, home with him to good food and a nice warm bath, that chat that she promised him they would have - hard to deny him when he's grinning like an idiot, bouncing on the spot and nodding his head at her every word - tv and sex before bed...you can't get much better than that.

Her night planned out happily before her.

Yet Castle, with his good intentions and annoying habit of chatting to absolutely everyone between the car door and the dead body, would have kept them here an extra hour at the very least.

So she made him stay in the car.

The car that is currently in pieces, tiny fragments of metal imbedded in the walls and the windows, the brick and the cold concrete, she made him stay in the car that exploded.

The sob rips through her chest as she surges to her feet, a hand over her heart.

She catches snippets of conversation as people run past her.

"Car blew up..."

"Homicide Detective..."

"...Beckett, and it just exploded, knocked me on my ass, I called it in but we gotta move..."

The edges of her vision are fuzzy again, black creeping into everything, one hand falls across her stomach and the other grasps wildly for something to hang on to.

* * *

He rounds the corner, panting hard and out of breath, his face red, he must have knocked aside half of the city to get here. Everyone and everything in his way.

The street is full of people, uniforms everywhere, smoke billowing towards him and the smell of burning metal filling the air.

The ground floor windows of the hotel are blown out and that's where Kate was, in that hotel investigating.

Is she still...?

He turns when a loud WOOP of a siren makes him jump, catches sight of the ripped apart tyres, the almost empty parking space, the flames that lick around the metal work of the seat he sat in less than ten minutes ago.

He can feel it building in his chest, the agony of what if and he closes his eyes for a second to stop his legs giving out, his head spinning.

To stop his eyes seeing.

It's not enough, with his eyes shut he sees it all...and imagines worse.

* * *

Is it possible for your heart to rip itself apart in your chest? Actually, literally tear itself to shreds within the confines of your ribcage, because only that would explain the level of pain that pounds through her.

She's been shot, it didn't hurt this much, surely it didn't, she would have remembered. But she left him in the car, made him stay and it...it...

"What the hell happened?" She screeches, grabbing hold of a uniform that passes her, mistaking it for a police officer, she tilts, off balance in her own body, the whole world off balance as it throws her into the arms of a passing paramedic.

"Woaah...Miss are you ok?" The man catches her as she falls, but she's already gathering herself, back on her feet and using the cruiser that took the blunt force of the explosion to stay on her feet.

She pushes the man away, ignoring his pleas, but her hands are weak and her shove feeble, and she's moving with him without really knowing how or why.

He guides her to his waiting ambulance and her eyes never once leave the remains of her car.

* * *

Her car blew up.

He loses the feel of his feet, stumbling forwards, and all of a sudden it doesn't matter that he can't feel anything, that his body is numb with fear, he takes off, sprinting down the street.

With every step he bellows her name, shoving aside uniformed, armed, officers not giving a damn.

* * *

"...Just need you to sit still and tell me if you hit your head? Do you remember..."

"Get the hell off of me." Kate barks, staggering away from the ambulance. "I need to find out..."

"KATE!"

* * *

A cloud of smoke clears and she sees him across the street. His head twisting from side to side as he calls her name, and she doubles over with the force of relief as it sweeps through her body.

It makes her giddy, her head spinning again, better this time, good even.

Her hand covers her mouth, wipes a stream of tears away from her eyes before she croaks out, "Castle..." It's barely there, a nothing noise in the cacophony of violence that surrounds them, but it's enough and he hears.

He always hears.

His head snaps up, his eyes the widest and bluest she has ever seen them, his strides huge and terrifying, determined, bringing him to her side.

* * *

His hand lands over her stomach, a firm, reassuring, love filled weight, the promise of maybe still alive beneath his fingers, as the other wraps around her neck and though he wants to stare at her he needs to feel her more.

He ignores the streaks of blood and dirt on her face and Castle yanks Kate into his chest, her body thudding into him as the sob leaves her mouth, arms up and around his shoulders as her lips break apart and tears fall from her eyes.

"Thank god you never listen to me." She sobs against the hot curve of his neck.

Because he wasn't in the car, he wasn't, he wasn't.

His arms tighten and he huffs out a laugh lacking any humor "Now you praise my inability to listen, all it took was a car blowing..." He can't bring himself to finish the half hearted joke, "Thank god you're ok Kate, " He hums into her hair, his fingers curling between them, "_both_ of you."

She pulls back slowly a soft smile parting her lips and a fierce sense of love overpowering her.

Her eyes are shining with shed and unshed tears in the flickering lights and she looks serene, almost ethereal. And Castle _will not_ tell her she's glowing, because she'll hit him, call him a sentimental fool and roll her eyes, or she'll burst into tears and curse him to high heaven as she sobs with pink cheeked embarrassment at her own sentimentality.

But she shines brighter than anything else around him, anything he has ever seen.

She's luminescent.

He kisses her hard, taking her mouth with raw savage power, the force of love and life reaffirming in their touch. It isn't fire or fireworks or explosives, it isn't stars aligning and planets in synchronicity of orbit, it's simple and it's hard and it's them. It's easy and painful and it's the soft skin on the palm of her hand when she cups his neck and the ripple of her hair when the wind lifts it against his face.

And the last thing he hears before her hands curl over his ears and drown out everything else, is the voice in the back of his mind thanking god that his wife is okay.


	11. Who let the dogs out?

**This little weirdness is for my Lovely, AlwaysCastle, because it's her birthday today :D may your day be full of cake and your life be full of joy!**

* * *

**_"Who let the dogs out?"_**

* * *

Her hands run over his jaw as he pouts and she tries not laugh.

Not very successfully, because he narrows his eyes and watches her from under the roughed up, really adorably sexy, fallen tendrils of hair that lie across his forehead. His eyes are crinkled in that way she adores, cheeks pink and skin still a little damp with sweat.

He had her pinned up against the wall of the alley not half an hour ago, his fingers working magic and his voice, dark hot and gravelly weaving it's way across her skin.

It had taken him seconds to worm his hands inside her coat, the cold chill against her stomach making her hiss and shiver, then moan when his hands replaced the lingering drafts and he _thoroughly _ warmed her up.

"It's your fault." He grumbles now, his lips refusing to part with the pout that has hidden his smile ever since their 'incident' in the darkened alley.

Her head tilts forwards as she hides from him, another move he knows too well and her hair falls, covering her face, as she smirks.

She admits she might have gotten a little rough, her fingers coming to life against his body, her hands uncontrollable, her hips writhing until he squealed. His mouth had closed over her shoulder and when she hadn't been able to to stop herself from squeezing him, tight, he had bitten down hard enough to make her yelp.

That much she will wholeheartedly admit was her fault.

What happened afterwards, with the police dog...definitely not.

She coughs to hide the wave of giggles that threaten to turn into a full on fit, swallowing down the noise as best she can, but it's the squeak, as she holds back the laughter that wants to break free, that gives her away completely.

"It's not funny Beckett." He grumbles pushing her hands away, giving her a withering look when his voice breaks her resolve and she buckles over, laughing.

"I'm sorry...I'm..." She snorts, so un-Beckett like, completely Kate in the moment. "I'm sorry."

Castle squints at her, trying to hold onto his anger when she looks so happy and free, laughing at him...he loves making her laugh, but he maintains the angry tone of his voice, "Yeah you really sound it...I mean look at me, do I _look _ like a criminal to you?"

The laughter stops immediately and Castle regrets his words, he sees the shadow of pain and the memory of his recent confinement spark behind her eyes.

Kate steps in closer, Castle finds himself lost in the gentleness of her voice, the tenderness that suddenly bleeds through her touch. "Never to me," she says softly taking the cloth from his hands and swiping at his hair, he scraped his forehead pretty bad when he yelled and jumped away from the dog.

A smile finds its way back onto her lips as she steadfastly ignores the three times he has been arrested in her presence, and the whole incident with the naked horse riding. "But to a police dog...I duno Castle."

He drops his hands to his hips, revelling in her touch, his eyes drifting closed for less than a second before they flash open wide, "It ripped my jeans." Castle groans turning on the spot, trying to catch sight of himself in the mirror.

"Mmm." Kate mumbles tilting her head, maybe in agreement, maybe to get a better view of his exposed backside.

"It could have bitten my ass." He states indignantly, filling his palms with his own cheeks, a too late protection that would make her laugh all over again if it wasn't quite so...

"Mmm, who wouldn't." Kate whispers darkly her teeth sinking into her lip.

"I think it did claw.. wait what?" Castle turns to face her, his eyes scrunching in confusion.

"Didn't say a word," she says clearing her throat again. "Here." Kate tosses him the spare clothes he has taken to leaving in her locker, "Get changed."

"Seriously Beckett," He asks dropping down to untie his shoes "what is it lately? Am I giving off an air of criminality?"

"Eau de Orange jump suit." She mocks, folding her arms and leaning against the locker when he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"You'd tell me right? If there was a vibe, maybe my hair..." His fingers run through the strands and she forces herself not to watch.

"Yes Castle you have criminal hair." Kate rolls her eyes for his benefit, huge and over exaggerated, before she tugs his hands away from the silky locks, "It should be illegal." She hums, sitting next to him.

"Seriously Castle it's not you, but think about what you...what we were doing," Kate takes his hand, palm to palm with her own and rubs her fingertips over his knuckles, "And no, ordinarily you don't look like a criminal but in that situation to a police dog... you probably looked a hell of a lot like a guy assaulting a Detective."

Castle huffs, squeezing her hand, raising his eyebrows "Assaulting?"

"Mauling?" She grins, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"Pfft groping."

"Ok," she concedes, "I like groping."

"Yeah," Castle states loudly, "So did I until..." He shivers.

"Attack of Scooby?"

Castle levels her with a look, "More like Cujo and I _do not_ want to end up mauled or in jail because of an overzealous police dog with no concept of foreplay."

"Her names actually Lyra," Kate laughs, the fingers of her free hand trailing the pulse in his neck, "And don't worry Castle, _IF_ you get arrested again not only will I get you out, I'll get you a puppy too."

"After today I'm not sure I want one."

She pouts for a second then laughs, "Fine I'll get you a cat."

His eyes grow wide pleading, they might have had this conversation before.

"Or two, no more than two Castle people will think you have... I am not fulfilling some weird Catwoman fantasy."

"Oo Catwoman," Castle grins giving her an appraising look. Black shiny leather within easy access and hearing Beckett purr...

"And before you ask me to call you Batman, sensible names only." She wiggles her fingers at him in faux disapproval before pressing him away.

"Where is the fun in that?" He asks standing up and shucking on his clean shirt.

She hums ignoring him, "Like T.J."

"Short for Thomas Jefferson? Toll Bridge junction, oooo Toxic Jukebox." He thinks then clicks his fingers, "got it, Tantric..."

She ignores him, "Hmm Uno, but that wouldn't work with more than one."

"Unless they were all spanish, Uno Dos Tres... we could have a Mariachi band of singing cats."

"Hmm." She considers, or dismisses, he's not too sure so he marches on.

"I like Sherlock."

"I thought that was for a dog."

"Well yeah, I'd look pretty weird turning up at a crime scene with a cat."

"You are not bringing a dog to my crime scene either Castle." Kate warns.

"We'll see." He mutters.

"You wana deal with a rabid Lanie Castle? Cos if dog hair contaiminates her..."

"Finnnne..." He huffs.

Kate rolls her eyes, "Hobo?"

"Ooo Oliver but only if it's a girl." He glances at her and she deliberates before nodding.

"Autumns pretty."

"For a cat?"

"Well you don't want a dog."

He holds up a finger in disagreement, "I don't want a police dog, specifically one that thinks me having you pressed up against a wall requires his canines sinking into my ass."

"Her."

"What?"

"Her, Lyra." Kate smiles, "You said he, Lyra's a girl."

"Do you really think that is the relevant argument here?"

"What do you want me to do Castle promise that I won't let anyone else bite you?"

"Anyone else?" He raises an eyebrow at her accidental admission. "You mean besides you Beckett?"

"ANYWAY." She growls loudly, her not so subtle way of changing the subject. Castle sighs and gives in, storing the information away for later before he returns to their earlier argument.

"Get a white one and call it Fluff, but ironically because it's named after marshmellow not snow or actual fluff."

She stands, happy he is finally and fully distracted.

"Oooo an all black one? We could call it Ninja, geddit cos it's always stealthy?"

Kate stops dead, her eyes wide, "Just..." She shakes her head wondering what she started, "Don't get arrested again, and for future reference," She presses in tight to his body, checking for prying eyes before she whispers, "I have naming rights over any..." She pauses and turns her head away fast.

"Any what?" He asks, winding his fingers through hers and tugging her back when she tries to escape, pink cheeked and silly.

"Any pets Castle," She grins up at him, "and _anything_ else you might be keeping your options open for."


	12. Keeps me up until the dawn

_"There's a restlessness in me, keeps me up until the dawn. There is no silence, I will keep following the sirens."_

* * *

"Come to bed." She pleads closing the door of his study.

"Can't. Words." His head doesn't even lift from the rapid movement of fingers and keys, the story blurring on the screen before him.

She sighs, "When people ask me what I see in you, I always say it's the scintillating conversation."

One hand lifts as he points at her, "Comedic genius."

"I am the funny one in the relationship." She deadpans.

"Wounded Kate." He grimaces, but doesn't stop, doesn't look up.

"And yet you carry on." She grumbles.

"Have to."

"Do you have a deadline coming up?" She asks, suddenly feeling guilty. While he distracts her when she's working, he still helps her get the job done, the killer caught, the paper work...well not completed but he cheers from the sidelines when she dots the final I's and crosses those last T's.

"I'm ahead." He smiles again, gloating and all her guilt falls away.

"Then why the mad rush?" She doesn't care if she sounds petulant, he invited her over and for the last hour she has been sitting alone flicking through too many unknown tv channels.

"Nikki's loud."

"Oh? What's she up to?" Kate shuffles her feet, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic as she wheedles spoilers.

"Making lunch."

Kate grimaces, "She's loud making lunch?"

"Bullets flying."

Ok, this sounds more promising. "She all alone?"

"Rooks there."

"Ohh, fending off bad guys."

"He's helping."

Kate smiles fondly, "Yeah, he does that."

"Found mayonnaise."

"To...use as a weapon?" She wouldn't put it past him, he has a very active, sexy and inventive, imagination.

"Making sandwiches."

And sometimes he's downright goofy.

"Castle, are you messing with me?"

"No, never." He grins.

"What are you writing Castle?"

"Nothing." He lies as his fingers continue to fly, the grin still wide on his face, "Spoilers."

"It's a sex scene isnt it." She exclaims, and it's stupid, he's seen her naked in every way imaginable and yet him writing a sex scene, which from the look on his face he clearly is, it makes her blush.

Ruby red.

"Totally hot." He's so giddy with whatever is happening in his mind and on the screen that he nearly giggles.

"Richard Castle, do not use mayonnaise in a sex scene in your book."

"Too late." He laughs.

"Castle, I swear..." her hands land on her hips.

"I'm kidding."

"You better be."

"Scouts honour."

"You were never a scout."

"Eh, semantics."

Her lips purse at that, battling a smile. He might find it sexy when she uses long words, displays her wide array of knowledge, lets loose her intelligence.

But the way he wraps his lips around certain words...

Mmm, it makes her melty.

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, getting lost in the movement and sounds of his craft, and she leans against the wall, arms crossing, "Why am I getting nothing but two word answers Castle?"

"Brain malfunction." He suddenly grumbles, beating a particularly tricky sentence into submission, attacking with the delete button, firing commas and sneaky punctuation until it makes sense.

"You afraid talking with me will mess with your flow?"

"Not possible."

She scrunches her nose, foiled again, "Really?"

He smiles, but doesn't look up, "Muse remember."

"You sure you don't want me to..._do_ anything, to help inspire you." She licks her lips, bites at the top one, waiting, hoping.

"Be you." His fingers fire off something he's clearly pleased with because he smirks and does a weird giddy little shimmy in the chair.

She rolls her eyes, "You're doing it on purpose now."

"Little bit."

Two can play at this game. "Fine. Jackass."

"Love you." He sing songs.

"Love you too Castle."

His head snaps up and the laptop topples dangerously close to the edge of the desk before he slides it to safety. He triple saves his work, lickety split, but his eyes never leave the mischievous detective.

She's grinning at him, mouth wide, sneaky and pleased with herself and he finally takes in what she's wearing.

Skimpy little thing, see through and distracting, jet black against her pale skin, lacy straps that seem to be having trouble staying attached to her shoulders.

He smiles back, shutting down his laptop, "So Kate?"

"Mmm?" She slides forward, rippling seduction and tease.

"Who asks you what you see in me?"

She stops dead and scoffs in disgust, silencing his laugh when she pulls off the black lacy skimpy thing, balls it up and throws it at his face.


	13. We may only have tonight

For my friend Diane and the joy she finds in the day.

* * *

_"We may only have tonight but 'til the morning sun you're mine, all mine."_

* * *

"Stay."

He moans into the darkness of the bedroom, his arm snagging her waist, not pulling her back into the bed, but refusing to let go.

He's warm and she's soft, almost willing. His fingers ripple gently.

"Please stay." He hears her sigh, the thud of something and the way she drops down - oh, she kicked off her shoes - and he feels the moment she gives in, collapsing back against him in the bed.

"We said four days so they could fix the pipe," She states quietly, curling in his arms so she can face him, the two tiny sparks of his eyes the only light in the darkness of his bedroom. "It's fixed. Now I go home."

"You just used me for my guest room," He glowers, not that she's been inside it while she's been here, but he tries to maintain the menacing edge to his voice.

It fails completely when her fingers stroke over his skin.

"You know that's not true." She whispers softly, her hands touching his face, mapping his chin, his cheek, the line of his nose.

She pokes him, "It was totally your hot hot..._water_ that I craved."

He makes a face that she cannot see in the pitch black, but she feels the muscles under her fingers contract into weird grumpy shapes.

"Stay." he whines.

She laughs, "No, I want to go home." She presses her lips to his cheek to make sure he gets it and he huffs, in that annoyed kid way, telling her he does.

"It's your birthday Kate, I am not letting you leave in the middle of the night..."

"It's 6am."

"On your birthday."

She hears the silent plea, the undercurrent of _I finally get to spoil you on your actual birthday_. Words he doesn't speak, but she hears them anyway, reading between the lines of who he is and who he is with_ her_, who she gets to see now.

"So tomorrow," she starts tentatively, and his head lifts, she sounds almost shy and he really wishes he could see her face, "is sunday and..."

She breaks off, taking a deep breath.

"Mmm?" His fingers stroke smoothly, a gentle path up and down her back.

"Spend the rest of the weekend with me?" She asks quietly, her mouth opening against his bare shoulder when she ducks her head down, the warmth of her face telling him she's blushing.

"I thought I was."

"I don't mean...I'm not working and you could...stay?"

"The whole weekend?" He's confused of course they've done that here at the loft maybe twice and the last four days because of the broken pipe, but only overnights at hers...so far.

"Yes..."

"At your...it's nearly..." He sits up enough that he can cradle her face asking quietly, "Katherine Beckett are you propositioning me?"

"What!?" She barks out a surprised laugh.

"You want breakfast in bed on your birthday?" He guesses again, thumbs stroking her cheeks.

"My birthday's today and we already had breakfast."

"Got it, you're trying to trick me into taking you Christmas shopping."

She stares at him in the darkness, seeing the unseeable, letting him know her. He's far too giddy, far too right because it's insanely early but...

"I need to buy your mother a present Castle and I have no idea what to get...Help me!"

He shakes his head with a laugh, "You don't have to buy..."

"Yes I do."

He grins, she can hear it in his voice.

"Why? Because I'm her son and she gave you _me_ and I'm _the _ best gift you could ever wish for..."

She raised one single solitary eyebrow, and he can feel the look, the glare, rolling off of her in beautifully scary waves.

"No." She grumbles, "Because, when you piss me off, she opens a bottle of wine and hands me a straw."

She smirks and he pouts and he laughs at the same moment she does. And soon the bed is a crumpled heap of sheets and giggling bodies until somehow she ends up with her feet at the headboard and him pleasantly heavy across her.

Sparkling blue tenderly staring down, gentle brown and soft pink, warm and inviting, she frames his face, kisses his lips.

"Stay with me," She whispers, "for the rest of the weekend." She smiles when he nods, her teeth catching at his bottom lip feeling his lips lift happily.

He whispers against her mouth "I'll try not to piss you off ... but I'll bring some wine just in case."


	14. Do it holding hands

_"Do it holding hands if you've got the notion."_

* * *

She laces her fingers through his, the air crisp and beautiful as they walk, and she ignores the way his step falters.

She knows his eyes are trained on her now and she ignores that too. Tugging him along after her.

"Get moving, Castle." She teases, tugging again.

She's only holding his hand, jeeze.

Then she realizes...she's never done that before.

* * *

Their fingers glide, slick with sweat. In and out of the recesses and curves of the other.

They cling.

They adhere to one another, tight, so very tight. They cherish.

Exhaustion and exhilaration breaking between the beats of their hearts, they drag each other closer to the edge of a triumphant fall, a plummet too powerful to resist.

Palm to palm their fingers curl, each finger divided by the other. They touch everywhere, are joined everywhere and, fingers squeezed tight, they surge forwards.

Together.

* * *

He's holding her hand under the desk.

Every single person she works with seems to have appeared from nowhere to traipse the corridors and roam the room.

Her desk suddenly the hub of all activity as they stop by to drop off folders, borrow pens and staplers, highlighters everything imaginable, and he's holding her hand underneath it all.

He squeezes to let her know he's fully aware they are in a rather precarious situation, all his fault, but at this point yanking his hand out from it's happy place, curled around her thigh, is going to draw more attention than just leaving it where it is.

And she seems to be in agreement because her fingers aren't holding his in a death grip anymore.

That doesn't mean he's not going to take full advantage though. Because right now she's just a little trapped and her hands, her beautiful, soft, delicate, strong and sensual hands, are literally his for the taking.

His fingers dance in slow circles over the back of her knuckles, the tip of his middle finger leaving a blazing trail down the length of her little one.

She really wants to look up, her cheeks pink with the effort of holding in the moan of bliss, because since the moment he touched her, so warm and tender as he slid his hand across her knee and pressed his fingers between her own, all she has been able to think about is the spread of his hands across her naked body.

His hands.

The way he widens his grip to pull her closer, the way he curls just right, touching her how she likes, how she needs. The way he wraps them in her hair and tugs or twirls the strands between each digit.

She feels slender, dainty and womanly when she's wrapped in his embrace, however small the amount of skin in contact, he makes her feel adored. He makes her feel powerful and bold, loved and worshipped.

Right now he's doing all of those things with four fingers and a thumb, the heat of his palm and the love in his heart.

He astounds her, and she clings not wanting to let go, not caring where they are.

He's holding her hand under the desk and she likes it. In fact, she lifts her eyes finally giving in and smiling at him, she loves it.

* * *

Her hands are in his hair when she cries his name into the mist and steam of his shower.

Clinging to fistfuls of dark silk for dear life, her eyes wide with intensity and the shudder still rolling through her. It escapes through the tips of her fingers into him, she can feel it as she caresses his ears in time to the rocking motion of their bodies, pulling water droplets away from his skin.

She circles his eyes, thumbs the darkness of his lashes. She touches his mouth, his jaw, his throat. Her hands map his face a million times, never satisfied, never needing less, always craving just a little bit more, a bit more time to touch, a little longer to know him.

His hands glide over the wetness of her skin under the heated spray.

It's divine. It's inspiring and it spurs her on.

The tips of her fingers slide over the bridge of his nose in awe, her lips parting on each panted sigh, touching at the smudge of love and exertion that stains his cheeks. His eyebrows, the furrows in the center of his forehead and the crinkles at the corners of his wide open eyes.

She cradles his face in the palm of her hands, devoted in her connection, fierce in her need, and she pulls him back for another kiss.

* * *

She pushes the cup into his hand, holds it, waiting and hoping.

She won't move and when his fingers don't immediately curl around the offered warmth the spark of fear that has been burning in her chest starts to ignite.

It sets light to doubt, smoldering with panic and what if.

She's an idiot. "I'm sorry." She whispers and the words singe her throat as they leave her body, the truth in them leaking from her eyes.

He takes the cup before the first tear falls and he grabs her by the shoulders, tugging her into his chest.

She thinks he says it back but it doesn't matter.

His hands are in her hair, lifting her face and the warmth of his fingers as they wipe away her tears is more than enough.

* * *

Her thumb drags a long line of chocolate across his bottom lip and if the idea of kissing his mouth, licking at his plump pout, wasn't delicious enough, she's just gone and made him damn near irresistible.

He catches her wrist as she retreats, his hot wet tongue darting out to provoke her pulse, making it stutter an unsteady beat against the pulsating muscle and waiting haven of his mouth.

Sinful seduction laced through his lips when he brushes them over her.

The tips of his fingers soothe soft slow circles on her elbow as his other hand cradles her palm and pulls it to his mouth. He kisses her pulse again making the beat come to life. He mouths the flat centre of her hand, bites at the meaty flesh just below her thumb making her groan.

He catches her eye, making sure she's glued to nothing but the movement of his tongue before he parts his lips and draws her thumb between them.

He sucks the trace of chocolate from her skin, laving and lapping at the pad in a rising sensual rhythm that she feels everywhere, thrumming through her body.

She pulls her hands away when she can take no more, palms flat to the naked wall of his chest, she drives him backwards into his fridge and pins him there as her fingers roam.

* * *

There is a thundering splash when her car hits the water.

Her nails rip, shreds of skin and blood as she clings to the metal desperately. She calls his name when her grip starts to slacken, she cries that she loves him when something creaks and she drops another few inches, when she hears the splintering crack.

Then warm fingers are unfurling around her wrist and she feels something snap out of place in her arm with the vice like force of it.

He grabs her hand, fingers bruising.

Their eyes meet and she can feel relief amongst the fear and panic, but it's the touch of his fingers that ground her the most.

It hurts, it's painless, it's agony and ecstasy at the same time.

His frantic grip and the way he chants her name over and over again make her believe he won't let her fall.

But it's his fingers...

They dig and bite into the soft flesh of her palm, his nails slice her skin with the force of his hold. His desperation and need.

He crushes her joints, fingers knotting in pain as cramp ripples through her muscles, too tight, he holds her too tight.

She clings to him even tighter.

She hears something crunch, knows it's her fingers snapping, maybe the bones in her wrist again, and a surge of pain like intense fire, like scalding liquid to her flesh, ripples out, waves of agony that rip their way through her veins.

But he doesn't let go.

She screams, muffles it by biting her lip and she hears him curse. A string of angry painful words that sound too foreign to spill from his gentle lips.

He's breaking her wrist and she loves him for it, his grip is piercing and raw, harsh and tight, and every second she dangles his fingers dig in more firmly.

He refuses to let her go.

Her knuckles burn when he pulls her just a little higher, a little closer to safety. She hears her elbow pop out of joint as he hoists her up higher, drags her back onto the bridge with him.

He catches her when she stumbles, holds her as she quakes, he cradles her injured arm when she turns deathly white with the pain of it all.

He keeps her safe. In the circle of his arms, with the heavy weight of his fingers, he keeps her safe.

* * *

She cradles his head in her lap, her hand across his forehead, soothing away the fever that rages through him.

She lifts the cloth from the bowl at her side and wrings it out, lets some of the water splash over her skin before she slips one underneath him, palming the back of his neck.

With the other she drapes the cloth back over his face, circling his cheeks before letting it rest just underneath his hairline.

He sighs, restless in his fevered sleep and her hand thuds into her breastbone.

She has to fight to hold in the gasp as the love there, trapped in her chest, cascading out so violently, like fireworks exploding under her skin. She tries to muffle the beat of her heart, stem the flow, watching him croak out a cough and turn into her body, before she sees how very unnecessary that is anymore and she clutches at her own chest and just...lets it all go.

She wants him, has him, likes, loves and loathes him.

One hand over his heart, mirroring her own, she feels their echoing beats.

_In sickness and in health_, she wants it all.

* * *

He catches hold of her hand, drags her fingers to his mouth and sucks off the ketchup.

She hears his daughter groan and feels the blood flood her face.

Remy's of all places.

She turns towards him, smiles sweetly, and punches him in the shoulder.

His daughter laughs, he grumbles but she smiles and under the table her hand wraps around his thigh, high enough to make him flinch with desire and surprise.

Squeezing, she lets him know, she'll make it up to him later.

* * *

He curves her hand around his arm, angling her wrist into the light where everyone can see, and she laughs brushing her thumb across his knuckles.

She can feel the gentle shake of his body at her side letting her know he's nervous.

She laughs again, her head on his shoulder, because it's so silly that he's nervous. The hard part is already over surely.

She said yes.

Now they just have to tell everyone else.

She flexes her fingers, the single solitaire catching the flash of cameras, and the eyes of their friends, she hears a squeal, feels the fingers at her hip tighten.

She turns in his arms, her hand landing squarely on his jaw before she lifts onto the tips of her toes and kisses him.

The hand on his face is visible to the cameras as they flash, light reflecting from her ring, but their other hands, the ones hidden away from prying eyes, connect at his side.

And it's so very much like the first time she took his hand, the first time he laced their palms together, their first 'handshake' kiss, that they don't share it with the rest of the world.

They keep it to themselves, their lips pressing promises to each other, leaving whispers across skin peppered with kisses.

_This is me, holding your hand, forever._


	15. Wanna say words in my earlobe

_**"...She wanna say words in my earlobe, reminds me there's an hour of the party left..."**_

* * *

Her eyes were full of the sparkle of mischief, desire and possession. Staking her claim and threading her words together in a blissful heat that surrounded him completely, obscuring him from everyone around them. Her lips sliding slowly over his ear as she whispered exactly what she wanted to do to him.

Where she wanted to do it.

How she planned on breaking him apart under the touch, undulation and swell of her body.

His eyes darting past his living room, through the open door and to the desk in his office, currently bare of everything but his latest novel. The place she wanted to have him tonight, the place he gave birth to the words they were all here celebrating.

A fitting tribute, a party all their own.

Her pride burst from her tongue as it tasted his skin quickly. She was proud of him, of his achievements and all the people here to acknowledge it.

She hummed and his eyes flashed to the others in the room, her voice low and dripping with seduction, murmuring about kneeling on wooden surfaces, the smell of leather and the feel...

The feel.

Her fingers curled at the bend of his elbow, pulling him towards her, closer, tighter. The feel of him beneath her, she whispered, she wanted him.

And he wanted to tease, to coax a blush across her cheeks and ask her if his words and the stories he wrote about her were turning her on. But he couldn't, she would be too honest, she would admit it and revel in it, she would flush crimson and glory in the heat of her body and it would be his undoing.

In front of all these people she could make him unravel, her fingertips brushed his thigh, her eyes lifting low from the shadow of her darkly curled lashes, she was doing it now.

It looked like an in depth, intimate conversation to anyone observing from afar. But inside Castle a war was being waged.

He battled the thud of his heart, the pound of his pulse and the fire in his blood. He wielded the heavy sword of will power against the temptation of her imaginative mind, he held his own for as long as he could.

His deeply inhaled breath remained trapped in his chest and she took the champagne flute from his hand, with slow deliberation, just so she could brush his fingers with her own and growl at him to breathe before he passed out.

He fought against that low down dirty tug of arousal in his abdomen, the fiery burn, the incessant ache, he fought, and fought in vain, because every time he thought he had it under control she whispered anew.

Different words, all with the same meaning.

She wanted him, now, later, forever. She wanted him. And she would have him, but the timing, well that was being left in his hands.

There was an hour of the party left at least.

And he cursed his love of hosting, his urge to pull her into the limelight with him. Her plan to undress in the shadows so much more appealing.

Her body his shield against the onlookers and with his hand trapped between them and out of sight he pressed at the soft silk of her dress, his fingers dancing across her stomach.

Her lips quirked to one side, eyes far too knowing.

Why had he decided having the party in his home would be a brilliant idea?

Why hadn't he kept it large enough that they could sneak off? And why hadn't he done it somewhere else? Far from the prying eyes of friends and colleagues, bosses, family, everyone...too many people.

The entire world seemed to be closing in on them as her mouth parted around the lobe of his ear and she whispered dark words, full of magic and wonder and showers and steam.

She burnt him with her intent.

"So, it's your choice." She hummed again, "You coming Castle?"

"Any second." He ground out, his voice almost as feral as the darkness lingering in her eyes. He watched, mesmerized as she exploded in glorious happy waves of laughter, attracting the attention of the room.

"Kate, leave the poor man alone before you get him kicked out of his own party." They both turned towards the woman, their eyes bright with worry for barely a second as they recognized the voice.

"I can't." She sighed truthfully, their eyes locking over the top of Lanie's head, "I _like_ making him squirm."

"You make me kiss you in front of all these people, Beckett, and I won't be the only one squirming."

"You wouldn't dare." She challenged, playing with fire, and Castle, just too much fun, and she stepped closer, unintentionally trapping Lanie between them.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" He bent forwards, his eyes narrowing before he yelped and the forceful thud of Lanie's hand landed on both of their chests.

"Captain from hell five feet from your left. Daughter behind you, Mother, Father and three very disturbed friends in the room, all really _not _ wanting to see you two making out." She growled as Kate stepped back, smoothing down her dress.

"Later." He promised.

"Sooner." She challenged.

"Masochists." Lanie berated, and over the sounds of the celebration she winked at Kate as Castle's booming voice announced to one and all.

"Party's over folks."


	16. It's fine by me

Based on a prompt from AlwaysCastle.

* * *

_**"It's fine by me, if you never leave and we can stay like this forever, it's fine by me."**_

* * *

Kate's eyes are closed and the beat of her heart is thumping so very loud in her head that it feels like it's vibrating through her teeth. The key is in the lock and any second now she's going to open the door and officially move in.

Officially.

_With_ Castle.

Into the loft...with Castle.

Oh god.

She sighs and thrusts open the door, one box under her arm and she expects to be wrapped in the embrace of her exuberant writer, for his arms to suddenly engulf her.

But there is nothing.

No waiting welcome, just the silence of an empty loft and Kate huffs her hair out of her eyes, refusing to be disappointed before she drops the box at her feet and her hands land on her hips.

She surveys the space around her, taking in her new home and wondering again if she's lost her mind before she goes in search of him.

She calls out, hears nothing but the echo of her own voice and her eyes narrow in confusion.

His office is quiet, no clicking keys and no groans of frustration so clearly he isn't writing, but the blinking red light on his desk draws her closer and Kate hits the button, her usual hesitation gone. She lives here too now, and she smiles as the machine clicks to life.

"Katherine Beckett, you actually touched the answering machine, I'm proud."

Castle's voice fills the loft and Kate laughs, her hand covering her mouth, the man is insane.

"You can roll your eyes all you want, Kate, but admit that you think this is cute..."

"It's creepy." She mumbles under her breath.

"Oh it is not." He answers and she laughs again. "I know I swore I would be there to help you move in and I really wanted to see you use your key." He sighs, a heartfelt heavy sound of sorrow that makes her heart pound a little faster.

"Yeah you did." She whispers to the answer phone.

"Buttttt..."

"Here we go." Kate folds her arms and shifts on her feet waiting for the story.

"Paula kidnapped me."

And there it is.

"You should really arrest her for this, I mean...I had plans." He sighed dramatically again. "I was going to make a whole show of moving you in, and putting _your_ stuff with _my_ stuff and Kate, I know you've got a lot of stuff."

"Says the man with three walk in closets."

"And my closets don't count Beckett, no fair using them against me when I'm not there to defend myself."

Kate rolled her eyes.

"And that is uncalled for, eye rolling Kate, really? Are we _that_ cliche?"

"Ohh you can talk..." She stops herself when she hears him laugh.

"Admit it Kate, you're arguing with a machine."

"Am not." She huffs.

"Are too. Ughhh...you are_ too_ cute and this is why I convinced you to move in."

"Convinced? As if...Begged...Pleaded..." Kate leaves the office listening to the message as she goes, coming back to his desk with a box.

"...yes, OK, being on my knees and threatening to _cry_ wasn't all that manly but it worked right? And I..."

There's a loud beep and the machine cuts off.

"See." She grins at the flashing device, "I told you, you talk too much."

The robotic woman's voice fills the space, telling Kate the second message is ready to play just as she unpacks a photo of her and Castle at the park, taken last Christmas, in the snow. Her cheeks were pink in the photo and she could almost feel the cold seeping into her fingers as she touched the frame.

His eyes were on the small flecks of white as they fell from the sky and she smiles, because the first time Kate looked at this photo, almost a year ago to the day, she realized how very obviously in love she was.

With Castle.

And there it was, a frozen moment in time, blatantly stating it, to her, to the world at large. The love just shone right out of the photograph.

Because, as he watched the tiny dots of snow fall from above, Kate's eyes were trained on his face, her smile wide and her own eyes full of it. Gentle, hard, harsh and horrid, wonderful, brilliant love. It spilled from her as the snow spilled from the sky, his hands on her waist and his tongue poking out to catch flakes.

She loved him then so very, very much.

She loves him now even more...if that's possible.

Her heart aches with the force of it, overflowing with warmth, the edges creak and groan to hold it all in.

And she's moving in and his voice, warm and silly and now annoyed is suddenly filling her ears again.

"Damn robotic contraption. This is what life will be like when the machines rise up Kate, we should make a contingency plan for that."

Kate laughs, lifting his laptop from the center of the desk and replacing it with their picture. He said to make herself at home and he's not here, so...she's gonna.

"...Some kind of bunker where the robots can't get at us, anyway...ugh, Paula's yelling at me, I'm so sorry I'm not there to help, I had so many plans to mess with your stuff. And I am so _not_ smiling at the fact I don't have to cart boxes halfway across the city."

"Liar."

"Am not. Kate, I trust you, you got this...move your stuff in and I'll play with it when I get home."

She stops dead at the word _home_, lifting a stuffed elephant out of the box and holding onto it tight, she just love love _loves_ him, even if he did worm his way out of helping her move.

His voice is soft before he hangs up, reading her mind. "I love you too, Kate...Get settled, just don't move the..."

The machine cuts off and he leaves Kate staring at it, wondering if he did it on purpose.


	17. Talk to me

Might push the boundaries of a T just a smidge, so if you don't like that skip this one :D

* * *

_**"Put your hands all over me. Please talk to me, talk to me."**_

* * *

He whispered, the words leaving his mouth in shivering waves like a fever he breathes across her skin. Dirty, exotic words, loving, calming, yearning and eager words, dangerous, everyday words, so provocative and erotic to her ears as he pulled her into his lap.

She faced away from him as he sunk down into the supple leather of his desk chair, taking her with him and wrapping her in the circle of his arms, listening to her moan softly when his lips found the shell of her ear before he let loose again.

"Touch, stroke, love." His hands roamed her leg, up against her thighs, pulling her back firmly into his lap, as close as she could get.

"Kiss." He heard her groan, "Desire." Each syllable echoing around her head, and he didn't need to go into detail, lace his words with descriptions or dirty talk, her vivid imagination filled in the gaps.

"Lick."

She swallowed thickly, listening as he spoke.

"Contract, pulsate."

Her mind whirled as it went into overdrive, spurred on by the deep rich sensuality, the cadence and tone, the beauty in his way with words.

"Taste."

It filled her up, flooded her senses and made deep moist heat pool, warm and luxurious, between her thighs.

His hand strayed, deep down to rest across the lowest regions of her stomach, his fingers trailing flames against her skin and she fought to keep her breathing even.

"Squeeze." He whispered, his fingers mimicking his words. "Drag, drip...Dip." He hummed, sucking the lobe of her ear into his mouth before letting it fall free with a slow wet pop. "Slide, mmm soft, surrender."

She arched back against him, dropping into the curve of his shoulder, shaking her head.

"Succumb." He tested, instead, and the lift of her hips, the tightening of her fingers conveyed her agreement, her enjoyment. His tongue darted out, licking the shell of her ear, one hand over her heart drawing slow circles down the centre of her chest, the other flat over the plains of her stomach.

He pressed the tip of each finger against the rippling, quivering, muscle, slow seeking movements, a thorough exploration of her body that was lighting her on fire.

Her lips parted shakily, breath leaving her lungs in ragged pants. "Hot." She moaned.

"Torrid." He countered, her imagination and creativity just as explosive, just as intriguing and powerful as his own and Castle let her pleas fall on deaf ears, his hands and lips moving in unison as he continued, "Beg, whine...moan." He kissed her cheek. "Ask."

She stuttered through the next breath, trying to keep it within her chest, to stop the ache weaving its way through her body from escaping past her lips.

"Ask." His voice dropped lower, tracing it's way over her skin. "Ask me, Kate."

She shook her head, unable to speak and every time he told her to ask, to just tell him what she wanted she found her voice, not trapped on the tip of her tongue desperate to escape, but hiding, burrowed away behind her desire to crawl inside his voice, letting it bathe her from head to toe.

Her hips rocked of their own accord, a swift thrust upwards that had him chasing her, his own body reaching up out of the chair, clinging to hers. She moaned again, his name the only coherent sound that left her when his strong arms wrap around her.

Castle wanted to see her and he turned her in his lap, pulling her, curling her until her head fell to rest on his shoulder, his fingers curving over the ball of her knee.

"Open." He coaxed, his voice a combination of need and command, demanding as he pressed her knees apart. His voice an alluring whisper as he ran his finger along the length of her quivering thigh.

Her mouth opened against the sweetly sticky muscle of his neck, teeth grazing until she bit down, sucking hard and letting her legs drop heavily in his lap.

He turned in silence, watching her face as her eyes closed, hips lifting and her hair tangling in the wet trails of sweat that had started to slide down her face. He watched the flutter of her lashes and the tensing of her jaw, the white line of her mouth when her lips pressed together, his fingers in a shallow sweep as they toyed with her.

"Invade." He growled darkly, pressing down, "Search." His voice lapped at her skin, drew patterns on flesh it didn't even touch, his words weaving her into a frantic frenetic tale of heat and wonder.

He whispered as he moved, looking for the right spot to make her...

"Ohh." She moaned loudly as he found what he had been searching for, her lips at his neck when his fingers retreated and she croaked, "Tease."

"Torment." He countered, his fingers drifting back and forth, watching the way her eyes half closed and her lips quivered. Opening, then falling shut and trapping unsaid words in the pink swell of her lips.

He could feel it mounting within her, the slow, tender, all consuming rush and his fingers pressed again.

The deep flutter and internal tug of her body robbing him of his ability to hold back, his lips moving over her cheek as he felt her twist and tingle in the steady climb towards oblivion.

Her mouth opened against his, teeth catching at the skin of his lower lip and _just_ before she could give in and fall, he descended.

He drew the moan from the very depths of her soul, twined it around his tongue and swallowed it down deep, holding her close and letting her linger just on the edge of falling.

"Agony." She heaved, scratching his jaw with her teeth, moving over his face with raw sensual need, until she bit down on his earlobe, sucking it into her mouth.

"Ecstasy," He countered, "Bliss...soon."

"Promise?" Kate asked, shuddering head to toe as their mouth realigned. Her eyes widened, lost in the feel of his hands as with slow and refined precision he brought down her defences, knocked aside walls, bulldozed the protective shell around her heart and slowly sucked her tongue into his mouth.

Moving his fingers, his lips, his body and hers all in time, all as one she came apart under his touch and he pulled back watching her eyes flutter open as she rocked against him.

As the most intense wave of pleasure reached it's peak, her body giving out and collapsing against him, he pressed his lips to the moist curve of her ear and whispered, "Always."


	18. Someone else's Angel

_****_For your kind words and sweet reviews, and for reading, thank you.

* * *

_**"I'm standing in the dark, she's dancing on the table. I'm looking through the glass, she's someone else's Angel..."**_

* * *

He stands to one side of the door as it closes. A lone figure that merges with the shadows, not finding it all that difficult to extricate himself from the people wandering the room, the party in full swing. He finds an alcove and from a distance he watches the main group.

No one notices, few pay him attention beyond a casual smile, everyone too free and loose with alcohol flowing and the music playing. They mill around each other, laughing, drinking, pressing in close. Happy.

She's happy.

She's wearing a simple black dress that falls past her knees, her hair swept up on one side of her head and an almost ethereal glow cast over her by the twinkling lights above them.

And she's _happy_.

It's a strange thing to watch from a distance. The way she smiles, the lift of her cheeks and the parting of her lips, the way her head tilts into the man's neck, the brush of their fingers making her cheeks flush. She leans in close and breathes against the hollow of his throat, comfort and contentment in the action that he watches in silence.

Her smile lights up the room and her happiness, so clear and evident in the way she holds herself, the way she laughs, draws people to her. Her friends and family, him, the man whose arm curls around her waist as he whispers into her ear, intimate and relaxed.

Everyone is circling, drawn like tides to the shore, they roll in, touch base and break away, and all the while she smiles.

He can't tear his eyes from her, wants to be a part of the everything that makes her happy, and yet here he stands, on the outskirts, in the shadows, just watching her face.

There's something there, in the softness of the lines, her flushed skin and breaking smile. Something he hasn't seen before, a light behind her eyes, a brightness that seems new and yet familiar at the same time. Like something reawakened.

Something missing, now reclaimed, found and nurtured.

A light it was beyond him to ignite.

He thinks about the last time he saw her, not that long ago, a few weeks, they've spoken since then, but actually face to face, she's changed so much. It would be so easy to close his eyes and lose himself in the memory of the darkness that seemed wrapped around her, the darkness that almost consumed him.

Looking at her now she could be a different person.

She is a different person. A new and lighter version of herself.

She's funny, the people drawn in by her very presence are laughing at something she said and she's mocking the man whose hand she clings to. All eyes dart to his face, to see how he reacts, and he laughs too, pulls her in closer and her arm drapes around his back, one hand resting on his chest, holding tight as she teases the man she's so obviously in love with.

She's tactile, her hands flirt with the sleeves of the other mans shirt, she touches his face, she seems fascinated by his hands and she's stayed tucked in close to his side as often as possible.

But it's not just him, she hugs her friends, tugs them in one handed and grins when they look surprised, she soothes and cajoles with the press of her fingers, she entices unknowingly.

She's new and old, a memory of times past and a ray of brand new light from the morning sun. And just like she calls the other man to her side, she still calls him. He hears her laugh lift across the roaring din and he treasures it just like he has for so many years.

The sound is a magnet to his raging heart and he makes the decision on the spur of the moment, that's why he's here after all, to see her, him, them together.

He makes his way across the room, no longer content to hide, to wait on the outside and look in, he yearns to be near her, to be bathed in her presence as much as the rest of them.

He moves swiftly through the crowds of people, they seem to part for him easily, almost fated in their separation, easing his way through. He slips past people he recognises, more he doesn't, hoping she will spot him first.

But she doesn't, instead the man at her side does and he untangles himself from her limbs, laughing when she tugs him back before releasing him reluctantly.

The smile faltering for barely a second.

"You came." He asks, holding out his hand, and both men shake before he sighs.

"Yeah."

"Are you.."

"It's a miraculous thing." He interrupts as their eyes meet, "To see your child loved." Understanding dawns and Castle opens his mouth to speak, like he always does, but Jim waves his hand to quieten him. "Not just loved the way they_ deserve_ to be loved, but the way _you_ as a parent _believe_ they deserve to be loved."

"I..." Castle stutters, his eyes wide and this panicked look of devotion on his face. It's a look Katie has told him she finds adorable, wrapped around her phone at midnight whispering to father. "Thank you?"

"No, Rick, thank you, and just you wait." Jim laughs, "When it happens to you, it will take your breath away." He sighs, "Watching your daughter be so..."

"So what?" Kate asks as she appears at their sides, her fingers curling over Castle's sleeve again, she can't seem to let him go and Jim smiles, truly, properly for the first time, less mesmerised, more accepting. He lets himself be a part of it, the warmth that radiated from them finally washing over his skin now he's at her side.

"Happy." Jim replies honestly watching as she blushes, red and pink and everywhere in between, from the arches of her cheekbones to the roots of her hair and he laughs, "Hi Katie."

She smiles, sighing and warm, releasing Castle's sleeve and tugging her father into a tight hug. When she pulls back Jim finds he can't resist. He watches her eyes, they way they flit instantaneously back to her date, her partner, the man that makes her smile. "Having fun?" He whispers loudly to his daughter, asking a million questions in those two words, but only one that truly matters.

She squeezes his hand, stepping back into Castle's side and smiling up at him. Their joined hands fall somewhere between them before she turns back to her father, "I really am."

He smiles back again, an abundance of happiness, watching as the man his daughter loves reaches for her face, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek before curling a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"That's what I thought." Jim states quietly, before he drifts back into the shadows, watching contentedly from the sidelines.


	19. Do your thing

**_"Do your thing, make my body sing...your thing, my thing, oh oh oh oh..."_**

* * *

She's watching him as he skirts the murder board, his eyes wide and exuberant. He bounces like a puppy, an over caffeinated, _'let's go to the park and run around and chase squirrels'_ kind of puppy.

It's ridiculously hot and endearing. And really really hot.

And she's totally aware of her body almost bent double towards him, isn't oblivious to the tip of her finger between her teeth as she bites down on it.

Trying to keep herself under control and failing miserably, because he's doing it again. That thing that not only starts this low down smolder in the pit of her stomach, but really fires up her imagination.

He makes her think.

Spinning theories, overcome with the most random conclusions and weaving tales, tales that would make sense if it wasn't for the fact...

"It's not a government conspiracy." She throws out, just to trip him up, to see his mind leap over it and form another idea before his feet have even hit the ground again. He's off and running, lightning fast, a quick flash of daring and cunning. His writers imagination a great help, but he's clever and thoughtful and willing to look beyond on the obvious.

He's so..._hot_ when he helps her solve things. When he knows at the same second she does, even without her training. When he gets that look in his eye that tells her he's onto something. When he works at a case just as hard, not only for the mystery and thrill of the chase, but for the closure it offers the victims families.

He puts his heart and soul into it. He understands why she has always done the same and he keeps showing her just how much better they are when they do it together.

Partners.

Her cheeks flush when he looks at her, his eyes dancing with the pleasure, the puzzle and fitting it all together, and he stares at her like he can read her mind.

Like he knows her blood is boiling under her skin, set alight like wildfire all because of his intelligence and quick wit.

He teases her and she loves it, hates it and craves it. "Mob hit then." He counters and proceeds to fill in every little gap in the story, reforming, recasting, recreating everything so perfectly that he has her on the edge of her seat, he almost has her believing it, only...

"He has no connection to the mob, Castle."

How she makes her voice sound that annoyed, that pestered, when all she's feeling is flustered is beyond her.

She's two seconds away from jumping him.

* * *

"You're late" She teases when she sees him waiting at her desk, "I made you a coffee."

He looks down, his eyes heavy against the cup. His brow crinkles, his lips quirk.

"What?"

He smiles and her heart beats a little faster, a little louder.

He leans towards her, reaches behind him and pulls out a cup. "It's why I was late."

She groans as they trade cups. "We're one of those..." Her eyes dart around as she whispers the word, "_Couples_...aren't we?"

"What couples?" He stage whispers.

"You know." Kate finds her seat. "Too cute, too cheesy."

Castle ponders, takes a long slow drag of the hot coffee she made especially for him, smacking his lips in appreciation before he grins, "Yea we are."

Kate levels him with a look, not giving into that smile waiting in the backs of her eyes, nope, no sir, it can stay exactly where it is. "Get off my desk, and don't gloat it's not attractive."

He thuds into the seat at her side just as she picks up her own cup, "Liar."

* * *

He's pressing himself against the glass, as close as you could call decent. Then he adds in an extra push just to get as near as humanly possible while he watches the room.

Waiting.

The door opens and she breezes in.

She doesn't look back but she slams the door hard behind her and the suspect jumps.

His heart stampedes around his chest like a wild animal, his palms slick with sweat, he could watch her do this for eternity.

The side of her mouth lifts, a smirk of power when the man before her quakes. She's content and in control, she owns the room, the space, the building itself. This is her domain, her lair, her trap.

"Beware all ye who enter here." Castle whispers under his breath, his eyes pitch with desire.

There is something about the long line of her legs draped in black, the heels of her boots protruding from the cuffs of her pants and the supple black leather of her jacket that just _demands_ compliance, surrender, give in give up.

She dominates, she commands. At peace with the force of her conviction.

Maybe it's the way she moves, feral footfalls that snap harshly over the aging floor, maybe it's the way she arches her back and sends her hair in a rippling cascade around her shoulders.

Whatever it is, she's magnificent and he cannot tear his eyes away.

She burns bright with it, justice, strong and pure. It seeps from her skin, it shimmers in the backs of her eyes. It's laced in the white knuckled grip she has on the folder in her hands.

She cracks it open, not bothering to look up at the suspect, riffles through the pages withdrawing three separate stills taken from surveillance cameras.

She slaps them down one at a time on the table in front of the suspect, showing him standing with each of their victims not five minutes before they were murdered.

With a sharp flick of her wrist Kate tosses the folder and it lands on the table, a loud snap rebounding around the interrogation room, earning another jump from the suspect, and behind the glass Castle feels his body rise up as he preens.

She has so got this.

Down to a fine and glorious art. Pinpoint precision.

"I'm Detective Beckett." She says sharply.

"Yea you are." He mumbles under his breath, watching the suspects head lift, he still has no idea, and Castle's hand lands on the glass, steadying himself, none of them ever do.

He watches her work the room and the man sitting in the chair.

She asks her questions, maneuvers him through lies and truths, sidestepping and weaving, a balancing act, a dance.

"You know what I think?" She states leaning back in the chair as the man shakes his head.

Castle smiles, poor fool, he actually thinks she's asking. She's not.

"I think you're a very smart man, Jack." She lets that sink in, lets the man regain a little of his confidence before she moves in for the kill.

Poise and grace, utterly deadly and completely extraordinary.

His heart thumps erratically when she leans in close, stands slowly, threateningly arched above the suspect.

"But not quite smart enough."

She stands, her arms folding as she walks in a narrow circle around the table and heads for the glass that separates them. Her eyes penetrate the thin division, spearing him with her determination, her yearn for justice, her strength and her dedication.

He wants to kiss her. Right now, just storm into the room and pin her against the glass. Let her breathe a little of that fire into him, let her spirit coat his tongue and her urgency tear at his skin.

He wants to have her in a frantic rush of danger somewhere in this building. Fast and hurried, with the fear of being caught making her bite on her lip to keep from screaming. He wants her loud.

And he wants to watch it all unfold, wouldn't dream of missing a second of it.

She steps forwards again, forensics have him nailed to wall and she sparkles like marble, hard and impenetrable. His mind weaves poems, sonnets, novel upon novel could be written about this simple second in time as she builds towards the inevitable.

"Jack Jennings," She sits down opposite him, eyes wide, voice strong. "You are under arrest for the murder of Alica Hobart," She lays a finger over the picture of each woman as she says their name, "Brenda Collins and Marietta Foster."

Justice served.


	20. I wanna run to you

**_"I wanna run to you. "_**

* * *

Her heart is pounding fast when the elevator doors open.

The possibility. Could it be?

But no.

It's not him.

It's Espo and a suspect, _the_ suspect and she can feel the loathing, the abject hatred that has been bubbling under her skin ripping its way free.

It claws the underside of epidermis desperate to get out.

It's like knives, left too long in the rain, blades dulled, they squeak and scrape at her skin from the inside. Talons rip into her like a rabid beast backed into a corner and desperate for escape and the feeling only intensifies the closer Espo brings him.

She wants to take him apart, make him pay.

She wants to kill him.

She would do it slowly, make it count. She would be _that_ person to _this_ man.

For Castle, she could be that person.

The suspect's head lifts, slowly, nonchalantly, as if he doesn't care, he probably doesn't. Until he catches sight of Kate.

His eyes are suddenly so much brighter when he spots her, smiling.

She can feel the air being slowly sucked from the room, and her heartbeat picks up speed, he takes a step and she can hear voices, Espo and the other officer talking, only it's muffled like she's not really here.

Her world narrows to the man - if you could call him that - that takes another step towards her. His arms are behind his back, cuffs secure an officer attached to each shoulder, the room full of cops and yet she can feel it.

The anger and desire to hurt him mask a lot of it, but the cold dose of fear slinks along steadily behind.

Then a smile slithers across his face, he wets his lips, sliding like grey pasty slugs past his red tongue and he holds her eyes with such intense pleasure that it makes her skin crawl.

She yearns to scream at him, her fingers itch to get at her gun, and the son of a bitch just grins at her, his arms behind his back and her stomach clenching madly with disgust.

He looks like a rat.

He is one.

Scum of the earth.

But there is a physical resemblance there as well that would be almost comical, if it weren't for the circumstances.

Beady little eyes hiding behind thick rimmed glasses, greasy skin and a pointy face. Patches of misformed stubble that make him look younger than he is spread across his sallow, sunken cheeks and jaw.

But she focuses on his forehead, her eyes roam over him, but they always return. A straight path to the centre of his face. This little dent right between his eyes where Kate really wants to press her gun against his skin. The mark put there by a greater design just for her, the perfect resting place.

It's like a personal target calling to her hands and her fingers itch to curl around her weapon.

Her hand slips into her shoulder holster, still hidden beneath her jacket, her thumb caressing the cool metal as she stares him down.

Espo sees it, whatever it is that she is giving away and he heads her off when she starts towards them. His hand finds her elbow, and he squeezes hard, hard enough to bruise, three harsh words hissed in her ear, "Stand down Beckett."

The suspect moves past them into interrogation and the door closes behind him before she lets out the breath that has been held, trapped and burning, within her lungs.

"You can't do this here." The man growls, taking half a step back, he waves a hand in front of her face, "Whatever this is, you can't do it here or now. So get it together, fast."

"I'm fine." She hisses, and Espo raises his eyebrows, she can almost see him mentally counting to ten. But before his lips part she gets in first, opening her mouth, "I'm...I will be fine." She nods her head and Espo steps back, but the look on his face tells Kate he doesn't believe her.

"Where's...?"

"Ryan's with him, coming up now, we thought it would be better if..." Esposito's eyes shift subtly to the closed interrogation room.

Castle didn't want to ride up with him.

She doesn't blame him.

"When he gets here I need to speak to him alone." Kate lifts her eyes pleading, even as her voice bleeds through with determination, with force. There will be no negotiation about it.

"You can't do this now, Beckett." Espo whispers harshly, "He needs to stay with it so we can get his statement."

"It's been four days." She growls, her teeth scraping over each other as she bites out the words. Four days since she last saw him, four days since that bastard took him and started sending her notes, four days. There is no way in hell...

"Beckett you didn't see him, that man is treading a fine line..."

"He'll hold it together." She states with confidence, "So will I."

"You didn't see..."

"I know I damn well didn't." She yells, ignoring the heads that turn in her direction.

The boys only found him by chance, chasing down a lead and Bam...Castle in the back room bound and gagged.

When they called her they were already on their way in, halfway there.

_Stay where you are, Beckett, we're bringing him to you._

And she had paced the room.

For the twenty minutes it took to drive him in, she paced.

For those twenty minutes - that felt longer than the seven and a half months they had been together and four days he had been missing combined - she hadn't been able to keep still.

"Gates...I've got orders." It's lame, even he knows it and Kate steps into his body, her hand lingering over her gun again.

"Screw them."

Espo's jaw clenches as he bites at the inside of his mouth, teeth working frantically over his cheeks and he takes a step backwards.

He's seen her angry, pissed and down right deadly before, he's seen a case worm its way inside until it starts to eat at her, sucking her in and pulling her down. But not once in all the years of working with her has he actually flinched away when she's spoken to him.

Esposito cringes, he's never seen Beckett so livid that she burns with rage so vividly before him he feels it scorching his own skin.

He opens his mouth, one last ditch attempt, risking life and limb literally by the looks of it when her fingers refuse to leave her weapon, but his words are silenced before they even leave his mouth by the sound of the elevator doors opening.

Nothing else exists to her in that moment and the doors part revealing salvation.

Her heart beat speeds up, slows down, stutters through relief and finally, finally, finally finds its normal rhythm.

Her lungs ache as she sucks in air, finally able to breathe again.

He's alive.

His eyes are black with shadows, lack of sleep and too much knowledge, when he lifts his head and it takes absolutely every ounce of self control she has not to run the full length of the room and throw her arms around him.

Espo's fingers brush at her elbow again. The floor falls away, her stomach ripples and she sways on the spot.

She wants to touch him so badly.

Needs it.

Her eyes dart to Espo's and she will fall to her knees and beg for those few precious seconds with him if she has to.

She will threaten him, cajole, whine and make deals. She will sell him her suffering soul to placate her hammering heart.

Her lips part to plead her case but his voice beats her too it.

"Go." He mumbles softly, her fierce warrior partner, so much like. Lion hearted and tender, made weaker by the force of love they have to share, made magnificent by it too.

Gladiators, they battle side by side.

Her brother in arms and he understands. "Go..." He says again, his hands pushing her, turning her body until she faces Castle once again.

He looks tired, so very tired and she could weep. She wants to curl her body around his and hold him, let his head rest in her lap as her fingers drift through the matted strands of hair and she soothes him.

She needs to touch him.

He's rough and dishevelled, a weeks worth of stubble across his jaw, streaks of blood on his clothes and bruises on his face.

They said his wrists were bound.

There are angry red welts wrapping around him like cuffs and deep slashes across the back of his hands. Hands that have spent the last seven and a half months worshipping her body, devotedly caressing and comforting, breaking her apart and building her up.

She will kiss every single scar left on his skin, she will clean the wounds and she will break down with him, for him if can't.

They will rise from this stronger.

She wants to run, run to him and press the pads of her fingers to every single one of those marks. She needs to feel the breath lift his chest beneath the palm of her hand, hear his heart beating steadily when she lays her head across him, her lips at the pulse in his jaw.

Her feet pound across the bullpen, each tap of her heel echoing loudly and she sees him sway, watches the way Ryan catches his arm and holds him steady.

She moves faster then, she does run, not caring who sees, who comments, who watches and she all but collides into his side. Ryan takes the brunt of her impact and Castle's eyes finally lift from the floor to meet hers again.

The saddest most painful smile she has ever seen graces his face, the face she loves, lips barely lifting. But his eyes brim to the brink, they swim with everything she feels.

Everything, all of it, echoed back.

He's always so much better at it than she is and the poetry of his eyes speaks volumes. Reams of words and books and every feeling imaginable leaks from the shallow pools of blue as they glisten.

She can bear it no longer.

Her hand caresses his wrist, she wraps around the red lines left against his skin, watching as his eyes close and his head drops.

Her fingers touch at his lips, caress his cheeks and his eyelids. Her thumbs sweep his face until she steps in closer, tugging him towards her and begins the slow steady process of wrapping herself around him completely.

Silence takes the room, it invades. It battles, it fights and takes no prisoners, it conquers.

It steals the whispers of gossip from co workers lips and it seeps between the thudding heartbeats of those closest. It weaves it's way around bosses and subordinates alike, making them equal in the face of what they witness.

It works it's magic.

It settles.

It prevails.

And in the lingering silence, her arms slowly slide up his chest, sweep his broad shoulders, remove a little of the burden he carries, and she surrounds him.

With her arms around his neck and the long warm line of her loving body pressed against him, she holds him in the silence of the precinct, ignoring the eyes of the world as they linger.

She sucks in another beautiful lungful of air.

"Thank god you're ok." She croaks.

And on hearing her voice he lets out a shuddering gasp, her name falling from his lips, how he missed her, how he loves her, the everything and all of them tumbling into the abyss of silence.

He shudders and his arms wrap around her as she waits for him to quiet. Her fingers soothe his back in rambling patterns, her lashes caressing the clenched muscles in his jaw until they loosen.

He opens his mouth to speak again but she shakes her head, and relief in its purest form washes across his face. He's not sure he could find the words if he tried.

His eyes flit in and out of view as he blinks rapidly, staring down at her lips.

He breaks her heart with a single sigh and whispers just for her to hear, "Four days."

His eyes shine and she cradles his face.

"A lifetime." She counters, moving slowly to his lips. And in the silence, with her mouth pressed to his, they talk to each other.


	21. The secrets that I keep

**_"...maybe that's the reason that you talk in your sleep, And all those conversations are the secrets that I keep, though it makes no sense to me."_**

* * *

**Some nights she laughed...**

* * *

"Racoons," He grumbled, a raw muffle of words falling into the pillows that he scrunched tight in his hands, pulling them up under his face, "covered in Dalmatian spots...Kate I like cookies."

Kate clapped a hand over her mouth and fought the urge to burst out laughing not wanting to wake him. How could she disturb this? It was pure bribe-able gold.

"It's hard to run in heels..." He stated flatly, before singsonging "I would knoooow." She sucked in a deep heaving breath, her chest quivering with silent laughter. Whether he was mocking her or letting her in on some juicy secrets she had no idea. It didn't matter, it was too funny.

She tried to control herself as another wave of laughter shook the bed and Castle groaned next to her, stirring at the movement.

"Feel seasick, don't like boats." He growled, "Bumblebees are awesoooome." He groaned the last word, almost as if he was in pain, before a whiny high pitched moan left his throat and he flopped backwards across the bed, knocking off a pillow and losing the sheet that had been draped across his waist. He whimpered, a drama queen even in sleep.

Kate snorted.

The hand over her mouth was not helping, the man in bed beside her even less and there was nothing for it. She threw herself from the bed as quietly and gently as she could, stumbling over her feet before she found sanctuary in his office. She closed the door and leant into it heavily, giving in as another wave of laughter broke free.

He maintained he was funny for every waking hour she spent with him, why did he never believe her when she told him he was funnier when he was fast asleep?

* * *

**some nights she cried...**

* * *

"Blood..." He thrashed hard across the bed and Kate rose to her knees her fingers tight at his wrists. "Kate?"

Trying desperately to ground him in sleep she held tighter. Fighting to get her voice through the din of horror he was swamped in.

"I'm here Castle." She promised, knowing it would make no difference.

"Kate...I can't." He sucked in a deep panicky breath his chest rising and falling so rapidly she worried he would start to hyperventilate.

"Castle shhh...I'm right here it's ok."

"I can't find her." He cried, wrenching his arm free of her grip. "He took her."

Kate swiped at the useless tears that streaked down her cheeks, his distress rippling through her like fire, scorching everything it touched and no matter what she tried she could do nothing to make it easier for him.

On nights like this, he always lost her.

"He's watching, I can't reach her...Kaaaaaaaaaateeeeeeeee." He screamed her name and she collapsed at his side, clutching his shirt and telling him over and over again that it was fine.

Knowing with every lie she breathed that it wasn't.

* * *

**some nights she tried to wake him...**

* * *

It was 3am and he was mumbling in her ear.

His hands spanning her back, soft touches across the bare skin of her thighs and all the while he whispered his desires, his fantasies.

It was sweet most nights.

Hot, passionate, loving...

A lot of the time it really was, and she would happily listen to him for hours.

But tonight it was 3am and she had literally just crawled into the bed wanting nothing more than to fall into a deep and blissful _quiet _ sleep.

His hand slid higher and she growled his name threateningly into the darkness.

"Castle, move that hand or lose it forever."

"Soft skin..." His fingers flexed, "hot water...mmm shower...kisses."

Kate rolled onto her side and twisted his earlobe in her fingers until he yelped, his eyes flashing open.

"Waaa...s'I talking again?" He mumbled, his arm looping around her waist as she fell back into the bed.

"Yes." She whined, pulling his arm around her tighter, "I'm tired, Castle. So, shut up."

He yawned widely. Snuggled in.

"Kay..."

* * *

**And some nights she just listened...**

* * *

"I love...Kate." He sighed, his chin on her shoulder and she turned her head slowly to face him.

"You do huh?" She whispered back smiling, she had never tried it before, the thing of talking to someone who talked in their sleep to get a response. But why not?

"I do..." He said peacefully, "I want her to say I do too."

Kate sucked in a deep and unsteady breath, the sheer force of emotion leaving her gasping, one hand falling to her chest as the other drifted from his hair to touch lightly at his cheek.

He wanted to hear her say it.

Say it back, with more than gestures and subtext and glances.

He wanted the actual words. Those three...little words.

And she wanted desperately to give them to him. Even in sleep.

Kate felt her hearts thundering beat ricochet through her chest, lightning bolts of tender love striking everywhere all at once. Battling to break free from a whole other kind of wall. One she was chipping at daily, frantically trying to escape its clutches. "She..." Kate took a deep breath, her heart chanting_ of course, of course, of course_ "She does, Castle."

"Pretty white dress."

Wait ... Kate felt hand freeze as it slid across his cheek.

"What?" She stuttered, her eyes wide in the darkness of her bedroom.

"Flowers, she smells like jasmine." He smiled, his lips lifting up into a sleepy sexy grin, "And cherries, always cherries."

Idiot man, of course _now_ he decided to change the subject. Kate opened her mouth, determined to steer him back but Castle let out a long low yawn, snuggled in closer to her and pressed his hand against her flat stomach.

"Beautiful hair in the wind." He mumbled and Kate found herself drawn into the magical whisper of his sleeping lips. "White ice, lace."

Kate started to imagine it as he spoke, the words weaving into beautiful pictures in her mind.

"Sunlight on her skin." He sighed deeply, "No Buffalos allowed."

Kate felt the smile break free, like surety and relief, the happiness from his inner silliness washed over her and she shook her head. Stupid, wonderful, lovely, loving man.

"My heart." He smiled, his fingers tightening and she wasn't sure if it was a statement at the rapid beat and swell of muscle, or a term of endearment.

She would be his heart if he wanted her, if he let her, if she was worthy. Kate felt her fingers drift again as she spread them through his hair, needing to ground herself in his nearness, his touch.

"The dress." He grinned and Kate tilted her head waiting, knowing what was coming, "Sexy." He growled.

And god, he was, he so was. Bundled into her side and roughened with sleep, dreaming of them. Nothing but her and him and the ways they could be together flooding his head, slipping from his lips and escaping around the bedroom.

"I want you." He hummed and she knew exactly what he was dreaming of now.

"I want you_ more_." She whispered back, turning in his arms, not trying to wake him but not caring if she did.

She cradled his face, smiling against his lips before she kissed him. With a gentle, not so gentle, shove onto his back Kate draped herself across his chest. Contenting herself to listen to the beating of his heart and the soft mumbles of love and dreams that acted as her lullaby.

Drifting slowly to sleep in his arms,she smiled, keeping all of his whispered secrets.


	22. Titanium

_**"Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away fire away...I am Titanium."**_

* * *

Her heart beats in frantic pounding rhythm. Cold hard metal against soft ripping skin.

Intense heat.

Her entire body revolves around one slither of white-lightning flash that streaks towards her.

Focusing on the pinpoint accuracy. The fragment of suggestion. The nuance of feeling burrows deep within and now, life itself in question.

Cloth meets skin, meets metal, meets truth.

She is Platinum, silver and gold. She is Teflon She is Titanium. She took what life threw at her, added it to the weight at her back and forged on.

But today life takes her down.

Noise.

Pain.

Life.

It exploded, it ricocheted. From the center of her chest it rippled outwards.

The bullet ripped its way free.

She died.

She floated.

She existed in the eternal state of nothing and for a moment they match.

His hands, her chest.

They match in the sunset red that stains them. The Merlot blotches across his fingertips. The scarlet weep of life as it leaves.

They match.

She died.

She rose again.

She is Titanium.

Her outer shell. Her wall. Her armour. Forged in firelight and dragon breath. Her internal battle wages on.

He stands sentinel.

He wears a black hat when he must. His hearts eternal beat is truth and strength and omission.

She tames the demons in her mind and he sidesteps the ones that weave around her. Wisps of smoke he can't touch at, can't grab, cannot trace.

His arms are bare and empty. His eyes bleed love and sacrifice. His terror rises.

They clash, in anger she rails and he stands tall. His love a shield of brilliant gold that shines light upon an unending stream of darkness. His lies, her lies, spill free. A weight lifted another gained and her anger rises, rises, rises.

Skyward she crests in moral outrage, ingrained need and she doesn't see. He's defeated, alone, abandoned, lost.

They match again.

In sullen shadowed tone of blue, of heartbreak, loss and sudden unending pain. They match in stubborn silence and refusal.

And death can taste her skin.

Its knowing mark emblazoned on her soul, the creeper in the darkness looms large.

The dragons breath that molded her takes her down, steals her oxygen, her life force a fine thread that it seeks to snip.

She hangs in the balance. A decision left in the hands of fate. A choice must be made.

She chooses.

Life eternal in her warrior spirit. She is cast in iron, against the gates, and she stands tall. She picks her battles.

This one cast aside for life.

She chooses.

In lightning flash and thundered rain she emerges reborn. In healing touch she seeks forgiveness, in lovers kiss and light of day, she chooses.

His hands, his body, his life. She chooses.

They match.

In eager swipe of teeth and tongue, in panted, bated breath. In deadly drag of skin on skin, in rip of cloth and surge of body, they match.

She lives.

She is Titanium. His shield. His love. Her life.

She is titanium, she lives.

She lives.


	23. My secrets

**Based on a prompt from 4evercaskett and therefore it might be pushing the T boundaries just a smidge...again if that's not your thing please feel free to skip it.**

* * *

**_"I'm gonna give all my secrets away."_**

* * *

Kate laughed, drained her glass and let it thud back down on the table, "...and he whispered that I had the right to remain _silent_." She smiled up at Lanie, the alcohol warm and thick as it swirled through her blood.

Lanie elbowed Jenny, and both women grinned as the detective swayed a little, the three of them on the tail end of another bottle.

Kate leant forward and smiled widely, "Then he said if I exercised that right he would be deeply, _deeply _ disappointed in me." She pouted her lips around the smile that just would not leave her alone.

"So, did you?" Jenny asked, her eyes on the glass as she tipped it towards her face.

"Pfft, no." Kate flipped a handful of fallen hair out of her face and looked up to where the men all stood at the bar. Castle turned, she tipped her head watching him, "I spent the whole of the next day staring at his hands." She bit her lip, her voice dropping low and rough, "Fantasizing about his fingers."

He caught sight of her, lifted his hand and waggled his fingers in hello.

Both Jenny and Lanie couldn't help the burst of the laughter that erupted from them when Kate hummed and shivered, her bright pink tongue chasing her teeth across her lip.

"So, who's noisier during sex," Lanie smirked, "You or Castle?"

A tray of drinks landed heavily on the table in front of them. "Woah." Esposito's eyes widened so far his eyeballs were barely clinging to the sockets. "What did I just walk in on?"

"Same question _Lanie_." Kate growled across the table, her eyes flicking up to the men as they arrived, Castle dropping down at her side.

His hand slid along the length of her thigh, fingers curled possessively around her knee in a way that shot lightning bolts of want straight to the pit of her stomach and she lost her train of thought, watching him tap his fingers against her bare skin.

"Nevermind." Ryan giggled and flung his arm around Jenny's shoulder, and Castle continued his merry perusal of Kate's leg, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when Jenny's cheeks flushed and the Ryan's both started whispering back and forth.

Kate shuddered next to him and he dropped his chin to the top of her head, his hand riding high on the thickest part of her thigh, his thumb brushing the place he liked to sink his teeth into. He felt her shiver and he responded in kind, still so amazed at how little touch it took to set her alight, how responsive she was out here in the open in front of her friends.

How she shifted just enough that it was almost an encouragement to go higher. She squirmed and -

"Castle screamed out BAM once." Kate blurted, her hands darting up to cover her face the moment the words left her mouth.

The room around them erupted into laughter and giggles.

"Dude." Esposito raised his eyebrows, "I thought it was 'BAM' said the _lady _?"

"Oh she _did _." Castle shrugged off the embarrassment, his eyes firmly fixed on Kate. The scrunched lips and rosy cheeks just inviting a little more teasing. "I'm not the one who likes to get _vocal _ in the bedroom."

"OH really?" Lanie chuckled, leaning across the table. "Do tell."

"_Don't_ tell, Castle." Kate ordered, pinching his thigh.

"I don't need to _tell_. " He smirked back at her, waggling his fingers again. "I can _show _..."

The table fell silent.

"Bro, I'm really not into that." Esposito stated, deadly serious, breaking the tension and everyone started to laugh again.

Castle held out his hand, ignoring the warning call of his partner when she growled his name. His clenched palm rotating slowly in the air in front of them and he opened it, revealing the red bumps and lines across the juicy skin just below his thumb.

"Is that...?"

"Are those - "

"Teeth marks." Castle nodded. "She bit me this morning when I covered her mouth." He turned to glare cheekily at Kate, "Stopping her from waking up my mother and daughter."

Silence settled in again, Kate's deadly gaze fixated on Castle, the entire table convinced he would be gaining more than a few teeth marks before the night was over.

None of them expected him to be walking straight the next day.

"Lanie's a biter too." Esposito piped up, unable to take the quiet any longer.

Everyone turned to stare at the detective before swiveling with amused expressions to Lanie.

She shrugged, "I am."

"She doesn't scream though."

Jenny drained her glass again, and hiccuped, "Maybe her mouth's too full."

Ryan coughed, Espo spluttered and Castle just smiled. He bumped Kate's shoulder, teasing his hand back into hers, checking he was forgiven.

He was...just!

"I'll have you know, Jenny Ryan." Lanie grumbled, pointing her finger and letting her empty glass hit the table with a thud. "That Javi talks enough for the both of us." She bumped his shoulder, "Though I can't say I mind him whispering to me in spanish."

The detective preened happily next to her, leaning in, his lips parting to blow her mind with some intoxicating spanish poetry about sex and fighting, love and passion.

"I could do without the Yo Yo Yowee, though." Lanie smirked.

Kate and Castle both snorted, Ryan's eyes grew wider and Jenny bobbed her head merrily convincing no one she was fully with it.

"Kevin knows all the saints in alphabetical order." Jenny piped up, thus confirming to everyone she was well and truly plastered, three sheets to the wind and drunk off her little blond ass.

"Okay, well I'll be taking my wife home now." Ryan squealed, jumping to his feet.

She leant forwards grinning, "He chants them."

Castle, always able to sense a story, and Kate, somehow always firmly in tune with him, caught each others eye. She nodded, he prodded and both moved closer.

"Go on." Castle smiled sweetly.

"When he needs to...ya know." Jenny staged whispered, winking one eye exaggeratedly. "LAST LONGER...he chants the names of the saints."

"Bro, isn't that sacrilege or something?" Esposito asked, his face so scrunched in on itself it looked like a crumpled piece of paper.

"It's just the same as me yelling oh god oh god." Jenny laughed, "That night when I was Mrs. Claus...WOW!"

Both men turned to Ryan with sudden and ridiculously new found admiration.

"It's all fair though." Jenny grinned up at the attentive table of their friends, "He's totally powerless when I..."

"WOAH! Don't tell them that." Ryan's hand clamped over her mouth, feeling her snort with laughter against his fingers, not resisting in the slightest when he pulled her away from the table.


	24. As we know it

_**"It's the end of the world as we know it...and I feel fine."**_

* * *

His fingers tangled in her hair, slick with sweat, against his slippery skin. The palms of their hands met in the middle of the bed, another rhythmic surge towards euphoria rattling the frame, shaking the foundations.

And she laughed, quietly into the darkness of the room. A mere amused gust of air leaving her lips, leaving_ him_ ... stunned at the delight that filtered through him, warm bursts of pleasure at her happiness. And she shook off his hands and held his face, his skin hot under the cooling dampness of her fingers.

Their bodies frozen in half motion, as the electric snap of tension and _yes please_ and _almost _ and _oh god I love you _ fizzled between them.

He held himself up, just far enough away that he could see her, his arms quivering as they tensed, _everything _ tensed and the fine line of air that seeped between them was driven away as she arched her hips, her stomach lifting to meet his.

A long slow melt of skin into skin, like a burning flame and hot wax oozing steadily down the molten wick, as she sighed and drew him closer. Her ankles met across his back, her fingers stuttering across his lips in time to the flutter of her lashes.

Bare flesh tracing over warm desperate skin, the thundering pour of bright white metallic heat seeping in between the cracks where they didn't touch, flooding their skin, filling their pores and their lungs.

He slid to his elbows, bringing them closer still. Hip to hip, chest to chest and nose to nose.

Blood pounding in their ears.

The throb of every heartbeat lingering in muscles they didn't know they had, thumping through them, every cell alive and awakened anew as they breathed in time. Their hearts connecting through the thin layer of skin and aching, needful tissue that seperated them.

Chest to chest in pounding rhythm, everything between them reaching, searching, yearning for the other.

The thrum built with every breath and they stayed frozen. Locked and fused together as she finally found herself able to meet his eyes, waiting for the shake and shimmy of their joined bodies to ease just enough that looking at each other didn't send them spilling over.

Not wanting it to drive them into each other, hard and fast like waves against the rolling shore.

She had him, her hands either side of his jaw, thumbs across his eyes and lips, and she shook again, another breath quaking through her to the very depths off him.

Every movement sparking life, holding tight, letting go, defining the next.

Her fingertips touching his ears. tracing his cheeks, the soft hair at his temples.

She had _him _ in the pitch black of his bedroom, hovering above her, his obsidian eyes unblinking, afraid to miss a single second of it. She kept him buried deep within her, inside her heart, stretching the muscle, making her love more fiercely, more vividly.

He was there, touching at the edges of her mind, their lives wound together like pieces of twisted string that she would never ever dare to unravel.

He was wrapped around her soul breathing freshness, exposing color and sound and piercing her body like a bolt of lightning, sharp and hard and deadly.

Undeniable.

"If the world ends." He breathed, his lips dry and warm and brushing over hers, the low gravelled tone of his voice setting light to her skin, like the striking of a match.

She sparked and arched, drew herself back to him slowly, seeking the sight of him with her roaming eyes. "It won't." She promised, his lips no longer parched when she pressed her mouth to them, sealing her vow to his skin.

"But if..." He mirrored her need to touch, his arms slipping under her shoulders, hands curling, curving and caressing until they were cradling the base of her skull, his body in perfect symmetry with her own. Even as she sought to absorb him.

She pulled him closer still, refused to give him up.

"I won't let it." They needed longer to do this, to _be this_ for each other in the quiet and the silence. In the moonlight and break of dawn, they needed an eternity. No time enough to ever ever sate the need and no ending world could tear them apart

A ripple of movement made her gasp and he took her parted lips in sweet devoted contentment, a mounting peace in their embrace as fever ravaged their bodies. He took her breath and her kiss and savoured the taste of love that bathed her skin, the air between them rich with aroma of her absolute belief.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else." He broke them apart to speak, their bodies boiling liquid in a fiery dance, her eyes wide with conviction and ascent. Smiles welcome but not needed in their subtle union of the mind before he melded them together once again.

He stole the very essence of her soul and she let him, not caring if the world ended, he had already altered her universe. Her genetic make up forever changed by his existence.

The oblivion of bliss and _more more more_ grew closer, louder, the white light at the end of the tunnel bright behind her eyes. His name became a soft chant that never left her lips, but instead seared itself to his skin with the press and stroke of her fingers.

Because the world wouldn't end, no great and unknowable karmic fate could strive to let them create something so majestic, so magical, only to shatter it into a million sharp edged pieces.

But if - as _I love you, I love you, I love you _ became their whisper and their song - if it _did_, they would exist in the ever after as they were.

A perfect memory.

Silhouetted lines in starbursts of frenetic, velvet revelry.

The two of them, entwined.

Forever.


	25. Cause it's you

Happy Birthday Diane, you are a truly wonderful friend and I hope you have a lovely day full of joy, Christmas cookies and magic. Mwah! x

* * *

**_"And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth, 'Cause it's you..."_**

* * *

He holds out a hand, the warmth of the water leaching into her bones before she even steps into the tub, and her fingers find their familiar place in between his own.

She uses her free hand to pull her hair over one shoulder and steps in between his legs. It's probably one of the very best ideas he's had in a long time, just what she needs in fact.

The water creeps up her legs when she lowers herself into it, the heat whispering in puffs of smoke and wisps of air past her toes when her feet sink to the bottom of the tub. The long line of her legs, calves brushing his under the rippling surface, submerge slowly and she mumbles something under her breath, eyelids fluttering.

It's bliss. Pure bliss and he smiles at the way peace and serenity wash over her face and, finding a steady footing, with him for balance, Kate sighs. Her body lax as her bones melt in the heat and she drops down into the vee of his legs.

The water laps at her skin, just shy of uncomfortable, the intensity of the heat just the way she likes it, total oblivion waiting for them at the bottom of the metal tub,. Below the surface of turbulent waters they find a calmness, a tranquility they relish, together.

His hand slides across the base of her spine, fingertips and thumb curving a path along the muscle and bone until her rests as her shoulders.

Her feet squeak and slide and he laughs quietly behind her, his fingers hot against her neck, pressing softly at the tenseness of muscle that she had been steadily ignoring. Until his fingers found it and worked it and now she hums.

Droplets of water gather on her face, steam rising up and the water washing over, but it's his touch that cleanses her, washes away the lingering trace anxiety and doubt.

She's here with him on Christmas Eve, and dinner with his family is a brand new tradition she plans to keep going for a long long time.

She releases his fingers, her hand curling over his knee caps before she falls backwards against his chest. The water is blissful as it slices, hot and scalding against her skin, his fingers following the steady wave that ascends her sinking body.

He drapes his arm around her chest, his hand falling over her heart, the other pressing between the spaces of her fingers where they have settled over her stomach. His lips are too far away from her neck to be able to kiss her, so he raises his leg slowly, lifting her slender form up into him, his hands anchoring her when she quivers in his lap.

His fingers sweep over her skin, brushing past her hair and angling her jaw until she's leaning back enough that he can reach her lips. Her hands curve up and back, squeezing his neck as she reaches for him and the tender sweep of his mouth, waiting and pliant above her.

The kiss unhinges them both, catches them off guard with it's sudden flare of passion, a desperation of promise they thought they had left in the bedroom. In the silence of undressing, their seeking fingers claiming the other, they had thanked each other for being here, for creating space, for changing, for staying the same.

And now it all swells up again, the force of it pulling her into him and they slide slowly under the water that crests the edges of his enormous bathtub. They slide until he's almost flat and she turns in his arms, spread out over his entire body, her fingers at his shoulders. And it's not the most comfortable of positions but its warm and soft and she needs to touch him.

Her fingers come up between them, their lips parting and she touches his mouth, trying to catch the last vestiges of the love that hangs there.

Her eyes hold his, when he finally opens them, and she stares unblinking. Behind her is a paperback and wine glasses, candles, a nice idea but she doesn't need them.

She doesn't need anything right now.

Just this.

Just him.

Her fingers trail his lips and she whispers quietly, "Thank you."

He shakes his head and his fingers tangle in her hair, they smooth paths across her shoulders, the tendrils spreading out around her in wet silken waves. Her thumb sweeps his bottom lip and he kisses it, slides her up his chest and kisses her again.

"Don't thank me for wanting you here, Kate." He breathes across her damp lips. "Thank y-"

"Don't." She smiles, her voice and her face softer than silk, "I love being here with you." The water lifts her into him with their next breath and she lets it press her lips to his again, until the rippling surge pulls her away and she sighs and whispers. "I love you."

His eyes are bright but he doesn't get the chance to say it back, his gasp brings her body back into his again, the water lifting her up, and their lips meet.

The little things that slip out of her mouth in the still and the quiet of their time alone are always the ones that steal his breath away.


	26. If I knew you were comin'

At the last chapter this story reached and then crossed the 700review mark, unfortunately this happened when I had guests and the squeal was questioned and lies were told...I REGRET NOTHING! Thank you all so so much for your continued and always appreciated comments and for taking the time to read, that in and of itself still astounds me. HUGS and belated merry christmasses and happy new years to one and all :D

* * *

**"If I knew you were comin' I'd've baked a cake..."**

* * *

Clang, clang, clang.

He groaned.

Bang, crash, clang.

"Ungdfff." He stumbled from her bed.

Tap, tap, hum, clang.

He palmed his eyes, trying to keep the brightness out and failed miserably.

There was another bang and clang and really, who was he kidding? Sleep would not be happening anytime soon.

"What are you doing, Kate?"

"Baking."

There was another clang, a loud and intense almost ominous _clang _ and he gave up trying to save his pupils from the blinding agony of the light.

"Really? Because it sounds like you're remodelling your kitchen."

"Nope definitely baking." Her back was to him as she whirled around the room, her hair bouncing at her shoulders as she...

BANG!

Killed some poor defenseless kitchen appliance.

"Why are you baking at three in morning?"

"Because I'm awake."

"I _was_ asleep."

She stopped dead and turned to face him, her face scrunched in realization, "Oh."

"Yeah."

She looked sheepish and adorable, but still, it was...

"I might have, sort of, kind of forgotten you..."

"You forgot I was _here _." He blurted out, his eyes wide and _ow ow ow_.

She stumbled towards him, her flour covered hands dusting themselves off on her thighs and he followed her movement, watched her fingers.

"You're dressed?" He asked feeling stupid. Hell he probably was stupid, he had been, and would love to be again, very deeply asleep not five minutes ago.

"Yea."

"...and shoes, you went running?"

"Yes." She brushed his face, trying to dull the edges of hurt her confession might have inflicted with the softness of her touch.

"And you forgot I was here."

"See, when you say it like_ that _...it sounds worse than it was." Her hands sat quiet and sedate over his heart, but her voice took off like a rocket. Rip roaring, high energy, too lively for three in the morning. "It's just we spend so much time sleeping at the loft and when I come here to sleep it's usually alone...usually because you're not here, obviously."

He arched his eyebrow.

She smiled and ploughed on, "So I got up because I was awake and you were all dozy from the sex and mumbling something about chocolate chip pancake rewards for all your hard work and I thought a shower would relax me."

"Only it didn't?" He ducked his head, his sleepy eyes opening a little more with each word she spoke as he looked down at her.

"Only it didn't, and I checked and you were _still _ fast asleep so I got dressed and went to get the ingredients for your _desired_ pancakes and halfway there..." Kate drew in a great heaving breath and smiled before she continued, "I thought jogging might make me sleepy. Only..."

"Only you came back even more wired than before."

She smiled softly, how well he knew her.

"Yes."

"Where did you stop for the coffee?" He asked, the small crinkle at the edge of his mouth telling her he wanted to smile too.

"That little place across the street we go to for breakfast sometimes."

His eyes were shining and bright and full of so much she hadn't voiced yet and she ducked her head into his chest.

Not hiding from it, not facing it either.

"And then," He said softly, so very softly that she knew he knew, and she realised she was ok with him knowing. Might even like it just a bit and she nuzzled into his neck, smiling. "You came home and started beating up innocent utensils?"

"Yes," He laughed and she didn't roll her eyes but there was a look, definitely a look. "No, I mean I came home and I started unpacking the ingredients and putting everything away for the 'sex reward' pancakes." She made a face, air quoted the words and poked out her tongue.

He really needed to be kissing her when she did things like that.

"...and started looking through the fridge..."

"Stocktaking?" He smirked, having only this morning suggested she do it. Make a proper food list, organise and shop and give him something to work with when he decided to surprise her with breakfast in bed.

"Yes, ok, fine, stocktaking is a brilliant and wonderful, idea. You win."

"Yes I do." He nodded, held her gaze for a few seconds as the blood crept into her cheeks. He squeezed her waist, "Carry on."

"Well then I realised I had everything I needed to make cookies, so I started on those and sometime around the third batch something was sticking to the pan so I..."

"Beat it into submission with a wooden spoon and woke me up?"

"Pretty much."

"You know, if you were _that_ wired after your shower, you could have just come back to bed for more sex. I don't mind being woken up for _that_."

He smiled, cheekily, less sleepily and more adorably.

And Kate laughed, directly in his face, this loud almost obnoxious blast of a HA! that made his eyes narrow.

"No, No." She tried as he made a show of pressing her away from him. His indignation partly an act, partly ...well, yeah, a little hurt.

"Wakes me up at three in the morning, forgets I'm here, laughs at sex." He continued to mutter under his breath as he stood a bit straighter, more awake and grumbly.

Her hands gathered at the neck of his t-shirt, the one he left here that, yes, on occasion she has slept in. The comfy shirt that took turns in smelling like each of them as the other wore it until now. Now it was some intoxicating mix of the both of them and she inhaled deeply the closer she got.

Her chest pressed into his, mashing against his solid length from shoulder to shin, her nose skimming at his collarbone. Her nails dug into his chest through the thin material, not a lot but enough that he gave up his grumpy _three in the morning man_ act and fell silent.

"Not laughing at the idea of sex." She countered, running her nose the length of his, the lids of her lashes fluttering shut against his cheeks.

His fingers began to beat a slow and steady rhythm down the vertebrae of her spine, stopping at the small of her back and hitching her just that tiniest bit closer.

Her lips parted around the gasp and came to rest, open and wet, against his jaw.

"What then?"

"I tried to wake you up."

One hand slipped low, found it's happy place across the high curve of her ass. The other continued to roam, invading the soft dip of her elbow, the tender spread of rib and chest that made her shiver, before he cupped the back of her neck. "Tried?"

"You...you were snoring." She breathed across his lips, watching the spark of midnight blue and early dawn that played out in the splash of color through his iris.

"I'm awake now." He growled, his mouth opening on the curve of her neck, the little jumping beat under his lips calling to his tongue.

"Oh, I know." Her hands slid from her his chest, low to the thin material at his hips, her grin against his skin only marginally less exhilarating than the wandering tips of her fingers.

"Back to bed with you." He hummed, licking the skin behind her ear, the outer shell, the lobe and her neck. He nibbled when she sighed, bit down when she groaned and sucked in time to the beat of her heart against his chest.

"What about pancakes as a reward?" She asked breathily, lifting the hem of his shirt in steady increments so she could get at his skin.

"Sex with you is reward enough." He smirked into her hair as she groaned, because yes he was that cheesy and they both knew it.

She pushed him away, untying the apron and letting it fall to the floor before she removed her shirt and discarded it just as easily. "I meant for _me _." She smiled, dark and deadly and the zing in her blood felt even stronger, even more electric than it had before.

She saw his chest hitch, his breath quicken and his eyes - she shivered as they honed in on her, far more focused than before - darkened.

"Oh?" He asked, his shirt following hers into the pile they were accumulating on the floor. He stepped in, trying to stalk her around her kitchen, angle her towards the bedroom, but she smiled, shimmied out of everything but her underwear and hopped up onto the counter.

"Bedroom?" He pondered, confused as he stepped between her legs and contemplated picking her up, hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her off.

Her legs clamped around his waist and tugged him closer. "Cookies are nearly done." Her mouth opened against his, breathing the promise of sweetness against the moist offering of his kiss. "We have eight minutes"

"Teamwork." He licked the line of her lips, fingers spanning her hips. "And we both get a reward."

"Only one?"

"Were you thinking more?"

"I'm planning on several."

"Go team!"


	27. Drinking from the bottle

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! :)**

* * *

**"Forget about tomorrow, tonight, we're drinking from the bottle."**

* * *

_(The morning after the night before)._

Every footfall sounded like the beat of a drum.

A massive, great, huge, freaking drum right by her head, and he was into insane gestures but seriously! If he had hired a marching band she would be removing appendages left, right and center and there would no reason to be calling him _Mister _ Castle any longer.

She burrowed her head down into the pillow, hoping he would go away.

He sat on the bed and turned it into a boat lost at sea amidst the worst storm known to mankind and Kate groaned, low down and deep and even that, that _pitiful _ noise from her own chest, hurt her head.

Damn him and damn his Mother and his stupid New Years Eve party.

Damn the New Year and damn her head and...

"Kate." His voice, his smug sounding pleased, snide, evil little voice, she was going to _strangle _ that voice from him.

If she could sit up.

Which she couldn't because of the raging...

Ugh, and the boat.

"Noooo." She groaned again into the white heaven under her head the black abyss that accompanied it.

"Head that bad?"

"You're rocking the boat and playing with snare drums...I want to kill you." She grumbled and he snorted and the snort rippled the bed and.. "Oh...Im ..." Her hand snuck under the pillow, covered her mouth.

She would not throw up. No way in hell.

"Here." He lifted the corner of the pillow, cupped her head and oh, his hands were cool, lovely and cool and she sighed.

That felt good.

He lifted her slowly, held out the water and the some white pills he popped into her hand.

He told her to drink and his lovely lovely lovely cold hand brushed against her forehead and she held him there, gulped down a little more water than she should and slid back down into the bed.

"Sleep Kate." He murmured and then he was gone.

So she did.

* * *

A little over three hours later she sat up almost straight in bed, which was a very very bad idea.

Stupid head.

The throb took a few seconds to subside. The entire frontal lobe of her brain bouncing against her skull and seriously? What the hell?

She hadn't had a hangover in...well _math _ right now, No! But it had been a long long time and now, _now_, of all times and places - at a_ Castle _ New years Eve party - her body decided to rebel.

Really?

Oh, unknowable universe, why art thou such a bitch?

She sighed, again, and hated it. Hated knowing that she would be doing it a lot today.

A lot.

"Hey, sexy lady." A voice, warm and rich, floated from the doorway and she smiled because...

Oh, God.

Her eyes widened and her hand clapped over her mouth and she gasped and rocked up onto her knees her hand reaching for him in the doorway and that, that damn smirk.

She could feel the beat, hear the music and...

"Oh, no, no no...no."

"Flashback?" He croaked and damn him and his Mother and that ridiculously delicious punch. The cocktails and the champagne, red wine with dinner and that damn drinking game. The alcoholic chocolate mousse and the night in general.

Just, damn them all.

His voice tumbled, a squeak that ended on a manly growl as he tried to suppress laughter and it was so not working because he knew, and she knew he knew and now he knew she remembered and...

"Ughhh." Too much thinking. "Please tell me..." She asked, knowing the answer even as she spoke, slowly, because please please please sometimes she had weird dreams and if this was one of them, oh boy, she would make it karmically worth the universes while.

"Castle, please tell me that," She peeped one eye through the gap in her fingers, saw his white pursed lips and his shaking chest, "Please tell me I didn't engage in a Gangnam Style dance off with Esposito?"

He snorted, just once as she collapsed, both hands across her face and her entire upper body folding in on itself and its secret shame, pressing into the mattress as she bent over.

He coughed, laughed, coughed to cover the laugh and started to _actually_ cough.

It took a few seconds but he finally regained enough composure, a few cleared throat noises and forcing himself to stand erect all working in his favor, and he spoke.

"Ahhhem...You want me...to_ lie_?" He gave in and giggled, freaking giggled, landing on the bed next to her and rocking it again. Less like a boat now, more of an earthquake.

He shuddered with it, and she glared, she really did for a good solid five minutes, and yes he was laughing the entire time and at one point - that moment where for the first time since they started dating she had actually _seriously_ considered _shooting _ him - mimed a lasso over his head and doubled up again.

He pointed at her and mimed, held his chest as he gasped, "...and then Espo did the leg thing and...sunglasses...wanted ...elevator...I can't breathe..."

And the laughing had started again.

Vibrating loud and obnoxious through his chest.

He coughed his way to the last of his laughs, his giggles of girlish Castle glee, cheeks pink and his eyes so shiny-bright that even though she still really wanted to _smack_ that grin off of his face, she sort of wanted to stare at him too.

Damn him...

And damn his _Mother_.

"I am going to arrest her you know." Kate said seriously, sort of seriously, as she flopped back into the bed, topping and tailing with him now as he leant against her ankles.

"Who?"

"Your mother, she spiked my drink."

"Which one?" Castle grinned. "The first or the fifth?" He squeezed her foot. "The eight maybe? That's when the dancing started..." He snickered and she glared.

"Start _that_ again and I'm going home." Her toe poked his shoulder and he starting zipping his lip, threw the imaginary key over his shoulder, crossed his heart... "And you can give up the mime act, Castle."

"Hmm, drunk Beckett is grumpy Beckett, noted." He said, no where near quietly enough, under his breath and she raised herself up on her elbows to stare at him.

"What?"

"Just remembering, learning." He grinned again, "Never seen you drunk before. Tipsy yes, squiggly round the edges, maybe, swaying a little from inebriation. But lasso over your head, drunk off your ass and dancing? NOPE! Never. Best..."

"If you say 'Best New Years Ever' I am..."

"Going home?" He cocked his head in query, raised and eyebrow that was entirely too sure of itself and she growled. "Don't worry, what happens at a Castle party, stays at a Castle party."

Kate let go of the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and sat forwards to reach for him.

"Unless someone records it on their phone and puts it on YouTube."

Her eyes widened, huge saucer sized orbs of anger and shock and this evil blinding white light of day that pinged against her brain and sent zigzags aching and throbbing through her skull.

"Jeeze, joke." He held up his hands, "Teasing, I wouldn't. I wouldn't let anyone else..."

"Coffee." It came out like a deadly demand, a threat, feral and gruff and he flinched.

Good.

He should be quaking in his...

"Oh, nooo, no no." He shook his head, sitting up and staring the length of the bed, "No way am I adding a caffeine headache to the hangover from hell, nope." He pushed himself away and slid to the end of the bed. "Water, or juice, we need to get decent fluids into you, and I don't mean..."

"Do. Not. Make innuendos with me right now, Castle." She warned, and he laughed and damn him, why did he have to look cute when he did it?

"I'm going to make breakfast." He said turning when he reached the doorway, "Do you have any requests?"

"Oh, I'm allowed to choose my own breakfast?" She grumbled, "How gallant."

He didn't roll his eyes, and he didn't glare and he didn't drop his hands to his hips or fold his arms, but there was a look.

Definitely a look and, oh, he had _looks?_

He had looks that he got to _use_ on her now, and they were...

She gulped.

And no, no way in hell would she laugh, or smile, or blush, because he had a look, an _I care about you woman so stop being so contrary _ look and damn him he was _working_ that look.

Sexy and a little bit in charge mixed with this undertone of utter devotion and...

"Kate?"

"Greasy." She gulped, her eyes on the muscles in his jaw as they tensed, "Toast and bacon and something sweet. No juice, just water and..." She licked her lips "...Breakfast in bed."

His elbow slipped from the door hinges and he stumbled back into the room. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiled widely, "I know it's only just started, but I really _really _ like this year."

And he was gone.

Almost skipping from the room.

And even though her head felt like it was a piece of tight elastic stretched taut as someone flicked at it repeatedly, and her tongue was like a...ugh, she couldn't even think, something squishy that had been left out in the sun too long and had dried up and was now stuck to the roof of her...

She covered her mouth, she would not gag at her own mental imagery and she really really needed to brush her teeth before he came back to bed.

Even with all those things, she smiled, toed the sheets higher and slid back down, just for a few seconds before she stood up, swaying on the spot. And as she marched, quietly, towards the bathroom, Kate had a feeling she was going to really really like this year too.

She might even _love _ it.

After she had had a few words with Martha...

And Esposito.


	28. From the corners of my eyes

**"Let your heart hold fast, for this too shall pass, like the high tide takes the sand...at the bitter end, salt and liquid blend, from the corners of my eyes."**

* * *

She watches the waves, lost in the gentle roll that brings them into the shore, and she tries to make herself unaware of the feel of him at her back.

Not ignoring him, but letting herself settle.

She has spent too many years on this alone and him being here still feels strange. She holds him at the outer edges for now, nearer than ever before, her quiet observer.

She finds she needs him here now, needs to remember there is more and it's worth the deals she has struck. She has spent too much time lost in the blackness of it all and she knows that, but she still takes the day.

This day.

She has to.

The cards were dealt long ago without her permission. Scattered to the wind and hidden from view and she battled on for years in fear and anger. Working hard, with an unknown hand over her eyes as she sought answers.

Always in the dark, always blinded to the truth.

She gathered her cards back up slowly, one by one bringing them close, holding them to her chest. She used the fight to wall up her heart and her sorrow but now she's finally in control of how the game of her life will play out.

But she still knew it was coming, and the pain pierces her heart anew with every thought of what this year has brought her.

The bad and the good and the unimaginable.

The amazing.

Another list of things she cannot share face to face.

No comforting words, no cajoling, no teasing at her pink-faced blush. Memories unshared that will fade into the ether of regret and the days they had together long since spent.

She won't bargain for more, doesn't even attempt it.

The ocean and its grey, fathomless depths called to her, telling her _here_, not in a cold and lonely graveyard, was where she needed to be.

Life's eternal movement evident at her fingertips, the push and pull of infinity right before her red rimmed eyes.

So, instead of locking herself away and taking that sad and familiar walk to a cemetery plot, instead of standing at the gravestone that shares her name, she took the day and asked him to bring her _here _ once again.

She asked, knowing he would. And in the silence and the cold she stood alone and whispered her secrets to the ocean and the endless sky. She told the ripples of her laughter, the sweeping surge learns her joys and the tossed scatters of salt and sand know her doubts.

Her truth and her unbelief leak from her, into the sea, the shore, the night itself.

The darkness seeps across the tumbling waves, the moon not daring to show itself as she exposed her soul and let it bleed into the tide.

And now, with every second she stands, she gives up a little of herself. Until inch by inch the pain, the raw intensity of hurt, is revealed once again to the world.

Perhaps it's cathartic. Perhaps it's not. But it doesn't matter it will be done either way.

She buried it deep behind walls and inside caves, under blankets of pain and wraps of darkness, the silent echo of times past, and now they are gone and for the first time since that day it, somehow, hurts differently.

Not better, there is no better here, no ease of pain and lessening agony.

It's not easier.

But it is different.

She has knowledge now.

She has answers to the questions she has asked every day since she was nineteen years old. She has the why as well as the how, she has the name and a face.

She knows who to blame.

And no, no it's not easier, but it is different. With him here and answers bouying her it's different and she doesn't fight a desperate undertow that threatens to engulf her.

She floats.

She sinks and her feet touch and she rises to drift amongst the feelings. The grief that wraps around her like waves of the sea, rushing in pulling back, lapping at her toes, they don't drag her into oblivion.

She watched the sunset knowing the pain was coming, but for the first time in years she knew the dawn would follow and the rising of the sun wouldn't cause an echo around the canyon sized hole in her chest.

The day of her mothers death dawns, raw and painful, but she won't walk these paths alone, she knows that.

She was a fool to think she had to hide, to lie, trapping herself in darkness over and over and over again.

In those long ago pre dawn hours as tears streamed down her face. When the bitter and the ugly consumed her, she told herself that these paths were only wide enough for one, never for two. Never for _him_.

But no more. No more walking alone.

He won't let her and more than that she won't let herself. She doesn't want to.

There is a protective shell around her heart but it's a shield not a wall. It's armour of a different kind. This doesn't weigh her down and anchor her to the past. It doesn't lock her in darkness.

It is no longer the padlock rusted shut. It's the key that releases her.

She won't tell herself these lies anymore. Doing it alone doesn't make it easier, doesn't make her stronger and needing him doesn't make her weak.

They are each others armour and this bright shiny metal of their love keeps her strong.

And he waits, like he knows he should and she knew he would and she's grateful.

He waits like he has to, not because she expects it, but because he himself needs it, needs to be there for her.

He waits until her hand lifts behind her and in an instant he's there. He doesn't speak and he doesn't touch anything of her aside from the proffered hand. Their fingertips barely brush and the air between their skin warms and she knows.

He's there.

Bright shafts of sunlight break the next billowing roll of waves. Pinks and golds cresting the unending surges. The day is dawning.

She doesn't fear it now, the swell and rage of pain as it rises up. Her heart can bear the weight of another year added on, another set of days that her mother has missed and it's painful

And it's ok.

To let it out, to sob against the ache of it, to fall to her knees in the sand and bury her face in her hands and crumble.

It's ok.

The truth within and the hand at her back tells her so.

The hand clasped tight in her own, the one that cradles her jaw, draws her close tells her. The solid body at her side in the January chill tells her so. The departing tide in the predawn hours, and the clumps of damp sand on her skin that he brushes off, tell her so.

Every cell of him tells her it's ok.

The tears course down her cheeks, and she turns from the sea and into his arms.

She won't fear the pain and the tears as long as his embrace is there to comfort her.

Her heart will break and it will hurt. She will crumble and die with the pain of it all over again and him being there, that doesn't make it any easier.

And it's still ok.

The tide takes the sand, gives it back in sea-tossed granules and her head falls gradually to rest in his lap. His hands stroke her back when she shivers, but he doesn't question, doesn't move or attempt to lead her back to the house.

Because they won't move.

They will see in the dawn, cradled around one another, sitting in silence and saying their goodbyes, his almost as loud as her own.

And tonight she will light her candles in the dark, the flickering of the flame at her fingertips testament that her mother's memory will linger, that she did not battle in vain.

Her cause may have been lost, her life, the lives of others, but they will not be forgotten.

She will whisper her mothers name in remembrance, as she touches the ember to each burning wick.

A light in the darkness.

Another year without her mother, another year with Castle.

And one does not negate the other nor does it replace, but it is different.

And it's ok.


	29. With a whisper

_**"It started with a whisper, And that was when I kissed her, And then she made my lips hurt..."**_

* * *

"I feel like people are staring." Kate said as she came to a stop at his side, turning on the spot in front of him and surveying the room.

Heads turned in her direction, turned back again when she caught them, only to focus in on her the second she looked away. Her head darted from side to side. Trying to catch them or give herself whiplash he wasn't sure.

It should be comical but it wasn't, he was fairly certain she was going to kill him.

"Yeah?" He dropped the paper, swallowed, bit at his lip and opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

"I can feel their eyes on me. It's weird." She shook her head at herself and singsonged, "It's almost like they know." She snorted at her own silly joke and grinned at him.

"That's because they do." Castle blurted out, quick and sharp before he changed his mind.

Kate froze, her mouth half open and her eyes wide wide pools of _oh my god, what? _ And it took a good ten seconds before she even attempted to suck in a breath.

"How do they? Why do they? How?" She flailed verbally, but her body remained rigid as she sought control.

"There is a picture."

"A picture."

"Well three pictures actually."

"Three."

"Of us."

"Pictures of us."

"In the paper."

"Pictures of us in the paper." Kate nodded, absorbing nothing. "What were we doing?"

And that was when he caught it. The corner of her lip, the slightest of quivers that shook the slender muscle.

She couldn't do that here.

"Kate -"

"What were we doing, Castle?" She turned towards him, fully engaged now, the smallest corner of her mouth still holding his rapt attention.

"In one we were sitting on a bench having coffee."

"Explainable."

There was another waver in resolve, the slightest fraction of lifting at the bottom left edge of her lip. Her mouth was always her tell, well sometimes her eyes too, but damn right now her entire body was a walking billboard.

"The second?" She folded her arms, knuckles white against her plaid shirt.

"Holding hands under the trees."

Her mouth twitched, full on twitched and he caught it, knew what it meant and his heart soared.

"Little harder." She breathed, her voice being chased by a squeak she couldn't squash. "Still always a reasonable explanation lurking somewhere, right?"

He took a step towards her, dropped the paper he had been clinging to onto her desk and found himself standing toe to toe with her.

"Right." He agreed, even though there was nothing at all reasonable about the way her eyes were dancing.

"What was the third one?" She asked, and there it was, that beautifully soft and tender, brighter than the sun smile that he had been sure was lurking under her shock. Sure was locked down somewhere just ready to erupt.

"In the third one, you had your arms around my neck." Her eyes flitted up, smoothed their way across his shoulders, treading the path her hands had taken in the park.

"I did." She dipped her head in acknowledgment, remembering. Remembering all too clearly as the latent heat of their exchange reignited. She remembered their conversation. The things he had asked her, the commitments he had been seeking.

"And your fingers in my hair." His voice quivered through the words as if he couldn't quite force them out, couldn't bring himself to be the one revealing their exposure.

"And your hand was tangled at the back of my neck." She smiled, doing it for him and enjoying it because that was something of a thing between them, her love/hate relationship with his fingers. The way they moved against her skin, the simplest of touches setting her alight.

She touched the back of his hand, oblivious to everything but the memories in her head and the man she was reaching for.

"And your other hand was here." Her fingers drifted to the dip of her waist, the narrow valley above her hips. She mimicked the way his hand had moved against her, watching his eyes follow her movement.

"It was."

"Before you slipped a key into my pocket."

"And you threw yourself at me." Castle smirked, waited for her eyebrows to raise, for a look or a word of denial.

None came. Just acceptance.

"Bit of a giveaway." She let loose the smile again, knocking him backwards as she stepped in closer. Her fingers toyed with the edge of his dark blue jacket, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks before she looked up at him. "So, they know?"

He shifted uncomfortably but didn't see the point in denying it. His hands fell until one lingered above her own, their fingers separated by the thin material of his jacket. "There were a few comments when I brought over your coffee."

"Oh?"

Her smile lifted, changed and made her look mischievous, as if she knew what was coming. He could not believe she was as ok with this as she made out.

"Something about keeping you happy." She grinned, he cleared his throat and carried on, "In more ways than one."

"Who said that?" Kate choked out.

"I think it was Karpowski, might have been...someone else..." His eyes darted, not wanting to get anyone into trouble with a rampaging Beckett.

Only she wasn't rampaging.

She was, in fact, looking up at him like she was going to...

"Er we can't do that here." He held out a finger in front of her face, aiming it at her smiling, puckering lips.

"Who said?"

"You. You said. A lot." Castle took a step back, away from her. "You made points, there may have even been spreadsheets and memos on the fact." He took another step but she only countered and followed him. "There was definitely a private email." He stepped back, quoting as he went, "No touchy feely in the workplace."

"Compromise? No touchy, a little feely." She took another step towards him, the grin wide and exuberant now, teasing and just plain evil.

"Nothing where people could see us." He jumped back several steps at once, narrowly avoiding a chair, "Which is why I'm blaming you for the park."

"Cats out of the bag." She shrugged, reminding him of the woman who resigned her job and threw herself through his front door, in one striding confident move. "What difference does it make if they see a still image, or we..." She eyed him hungrily, skirting her desk and marching him backwards as he fled from her intense gaze. "Put on a show."

"YOU said not where Gates could catch us." He oofed as he thudded into the wall.

"Gates isn't here." Kate said winding her body around his like a contented cat.

"Yes she is." Came the Captains voice from behind her. "You two. My office. Now."


	30. When you walked in

For those who asked for a follow on from the chapter before.

* * *

_**"I knew you were trouble when you walked in."**_

* * *

"Calm down." She hisses as they follow the fast moving Captain through the halls towards her office.

"Can't." And seriously he cannot, he tried to breathe but that combined with walking, right now, not happening.

"Try." She growls threateningly under her breath.

He takes barely a second, skipping along hurriedly at her side, before he gives up, "Nope. Can't. She knows. I'm screwed, I'm gone."

"You are not." She states fiercely, nudging him with her arm. Over her dead body is he going anywhere.

"I will be," Castle sighs heavily "All because of your lack of self control." He smirks sideways at her, narrowly avoids walking into a wall and skips again to keep up.

"Castle, that's not funny."

"No, not funny. Shocking, disgusting. Beckett it was a flagrant abuse of your power over a subordinate." He twists in her direction and whispers darkly, "I could sue."

She turns then and catches the glimmer of humour behind his eyes.

Oh.

She throws a little of the flirt back in his direction, adding in a smile, "You wana sue the city or me personally?"

"I'm gonna take you to the bank, Beckett." He growls sending little sparks of fire shooting through her veins.

How the hell does he make _that_ sound sexy?

They come to a dead stop outside her office and Kate's distracted enough that she nearly collides with the Captain.

"Yo boss." Espo calls and his mouth hangs open when Kate shakes her head her eyes moving between Gates, Castle and the office

"Ohhhh." Espo grimaces, too late to school his face and teach it the proper etiquette when it comes to hiding his friends love affair from an irate Captain. Gates catches the look that passes between the three of them, grumbles and shakes her head.

"Huh!" She huffs glancing between them, "And here I was thinking you had been discrete."

What?

Did she already know?

Kate's head snaps to look at Castle in perfect synchronicity as he swings around to face her. Mirrored images of eyes-wide confusion, panic suffusing them both.

"Why don't you both take a seat." Gates finally speaks ushering them inside.

Their silent conversation persists behind her back as Castle gestures for Kate to go ahead of him and she grimaces pointing at him for cowardly behaviour.

_Sending me in first? Seriously Castle._

_Yes seriously, she's your boss not mine._

_Oh, thats low. You will pay for this._

_Ya think!_

And they Dance around each other, finding their seats. He sits as far away from the Captain as possible and Kate sits, still focused on Castle. She waits and when his fingers start to tap manically at the arm rest she pokes him.

_'Calm. Down_' she mouths.

"Ahhheeem." There is a thud as a file lands on the table and both Castle and Beckett jump and look up - another perfectly in time movement - to find the Captain staring at them.

"While it was being kept under wraps," she starts, pointing between them "I was perfectly content to ignore your little -"

Kate flinches

"_Indiscretion_!"

Castle coughs, trying to find a comfortable position in the chair under the iron stare of the Captain. Kate silently praying at his side that he doesn't open his mouth.

"Now it's out in the open," she throws the article down on the table, "In the paper no less, it seems I will have to do something about it."

"_It_." Kate flinches again.

"So exactly how long have you been compromised? Ball park figure, I don't need times and dates." Gates swallows against the bitter taste in her mouth, "Yet..."

"She's not _compromised_." Castle blurts, jumping when he feels Kate's fingers tighten on his arm.

"Four years." Kate releases him and folds her arms. Really trying to ignore the way he spins in the chair to face her, his quivering body dancing in her peripheral.

"Four...I...excuse me?" Gates stammers.

"Four years," Kate chants again. "Almost five actually, if you want to look at our working together as me being _compromised_."

"You know perfectly well-"

"Four years." Kate repeats defiantly, "Anything else since, during or hereafter stems from that so you want to know how long we've been compromised?" She lifts her lids, locks eyes with the Captain, "Four years."

Nerves of steel.

His girlfriend has nerves of steel. He kinda wants to throw himself at her, knock her out of that chair and - Jeeze - the look on her face, the set of her jaw tells him she might just let him hop her up onto the Captain's desk and ...

"Right, Castle?"

"Yes." He nods.

Wait. What?

Both women are staring at him like they can read his mind, though thankfully he's knows only one of them - nerves of steel superhero girlfriend - can actually do that.

"Four years?" Kate waits and he agrees.

"Yes four." He smiles, can't help. She is magnificent.

"I really do not think _now _ is a sensible time to be taking issue with my word choice, Detective."

"Is there a problem with my work history?" Kate shakes her head, aside from two very rare incidents she has a pretty clean record compared to some. "My closure rate is the highest in the precinct. Is there a problem with the way we work together?"

Gates laughs.

Castle shrinks back in the chair stunned and afraid.

What foul creature is this before him that giggles?

_Giggles!_

"It's not the _work _ I have issue with." She taps the paper, "Its the _play_." She taps the paper again, harder, scarier. "Evidently the entire city sees how well the two of you..." She chooses the words carefully before spitting them out. "Get. Along."

Oh and ok, yes, that is unfortunate and his fault more than Kate's and he's been passive far too long in this conversation.

Castle shifts forward in the chair, his hands reaching out to touch at the Captain's desk, "Detective Beckett's ability to do her job, has not and _will not _ be compromised by myself or associated interest from the press. I have already spoken to my agent and my publicist about this breach of her privacy and I shall be contacting the Mayor to offer my sincere-"

"Do not throw the Mayor in my face Mr. Castle."

Oops.

"You can get yourself splashed across page one naked for all I care."

Oh, really cos - he glances at Kate, sees her cheeks flame red - yeah he does have this one idea...

"In the field I need to know you can do your jobs." Gates glares pointedly between the two of them before focusing back on Kate, "Job!" She corrects, eyeing Castle once more.

Oh, Gates has a look too. It's not nearly as hot as Kate's though.

"I have been for four years with him, a lot longer without, I don't see why now would be any-"

"Detective, you can't tell me you wouldn't endanger your life," She points through the glass door to the waiting Ryan and Esposito, "The lives of your team, to save him. Especially now, when the two of you are clearly in some sort of-"

"He's my partner." Kate replies simply. "Of course I would try to save him. I have done and would do it again. Just as I _have done_ and _would_ do it again for both Ryan and Esposito." Kate's knuckles turn white as she grips the arms of the chair. "I stood in front of Karpowski when she was under fire and injured and I have been shielded by several members of the team." She turns towards her partner, "Castle included, on more than one occasion." She sets her lips, shrugs her shoulders, "It's what we do, Captain."

Kate rises slowly to her feet, stepping in towards the desk, holding Castle mesmerized as he watches.

"Do I have a vested interest in getting him home safe and unhurt?" She nods, "Of course I do." She breathes out heavily "I no more want to be delivering bad news to his mother and daughter than you do, Captain. That makes me better at my job, not worse. It keeps me focused. I have his back, he has mine." She turns to face him again, "Like we _always_ have."

Gates stands and beckons for Kate to take her seat again, but she doesn't. "That's as may be," She comments, ignoring the blatant disregard of her offer, "But I can't let this incident pass without taking some action."

Kate steps back and Castle stands. Partners, in punishment as well as fun.

Yes, he has her back.

"As of today you are on a week's suspension for failing to divulge a personal relationship with a member of your team."

A week!?

"As for you Mr. Castle." She shakes her head and he can't keep his fingers from attaching themselves to the back of Kate's jacket.

"I don't think it prudent to have you shadowing Beckett any longer."

Kate opens her mouth and Castle flinches.

Is this is it...

Really it?

The end?

"Beckett, you'll be partnering with Detective Esposito from now on." Gates sits back down, closing the file in front of her. "Mr. Castle, being as your presence continues to be the gift that keeps on giving." She rolls her eyes, "My hands are tied, I hope you find Detective Ryan as _inspiring_ as Beckett."

He chokes out a shocked breath and Kate's heel digs backwards into his foot, a silent _shut up_ that brings tears to his eyes.

"Word of advice though?" The Captain calls to Castle, even as she waves them both towards the door. She smirks at her file as she speaks, "Try to keep your hands to yourself this time, he is a _married_ man after all."


	31. Back for you

For Steph, who likes this kinda thing! Have a wonderful, happy and chocolate filled birthday! Thank you for too many things to list in an A/N but mainly for being my friend. It means the world (don't yell at me when you read it :P )

* * *

**_"Baby, you don't have to worry, I'll be coming back for you."_**

* * *

"I'm coming back." He swore, grunting with the effort, his body tipping towards her.

"Get her out of here, Castle." Kate coughed, twisting under the cuffs that held her arms high above her head.

Her eyes were bleary with smoke, twisted tears and sweat ran down her face, their trickling path doing nothing to soothe the burn to her skin, their wetness too soon absorbed by the suffocating ferocity of the heat.

The torrid encroaching flame scalded her skin and somewhere nearby the floor gave out, a massive explosive crash that made her jump, the building shake and billows of smoke pour into the room.

Her arms ached, wrists tender under the metal of her handcuffs and the strain of her weight. Her shoulders were burning long before the flames started, but that was the point. Kate twisted under the pull of the heated metal circling her wrists, the sear of heat burning through the skin and embedding itself into the twist of muscle and bone. She couldn't bring herself to look up and see the damage being done, the wetness of her wrists told her more than she needed to know.

That was why _he_ had done this. That had been his intention when he took Alexis. When he spent days and days drawing them into his web. When he had cuffed Kate to the water pipe and left Castle's daughter drugged and alone in another room before setting the building alight.

He had done it pure and simply to make her suffer.

To make them both suffer.

To force Castle to make a choice he would never be able to live with, one he wouldn't survive.

Castle glanced down at his daughter, unconscious and limp in his arms, and back up to Kate.

The smoke continued to seep under the door, in through cracks they couldn't see, billowing in dense swirls that made them both choke with each breath they took.

He shifted Alexis in his arms, shielded her face in the front of his shirt to try and keep her from inhaling the bitter burn of flame and fire. It didn't help.

It swirled towards them with every passing second, thicker, hotter.

Filling the room.

"Get her out of here, Castle." Kate gasped, coughing even more intensely than before. He watched her rub her eyes against the greying white shirt she wore. Wiping away tears and dirt from her face.

"I'm coming back for you, Kate." He swore. "I'll get her out and-"

"GO!" She bellowed.

Her eyes found his in the smoulder and thickening fog.

It took her breath, stealing the oxygen from her and she was desperately trying not to panic. Not to give in to the wave of fear that was starting to rise up over her. But Castle could read it all so very clearly in the look she gave him.

Every little bit of that she would normally hide behind the fall of her lashes and the droop of her head, she gave everything of it over to him.

And burning, simmering underneath it all was the things he never ever wanted to see from her.

Resignation.

Forgiveness

He didn't want it, didn't need it.

He wasn't choosing one over the other. He was not saving his daughter and sacrificing her in the process.

"I am."

Her sad smile scared him, did she not believe him? She nodded to appease him, coughed again and sucked in a fierce determined breath.

"Go! Alexis needs help, Castle get her out of here."

"I'm going." He grunted, turning the words from a simple agreement to a grating curse as the meaning of that simple statement settled over him. He charged forwards, stepping as close as the cradled body of his daughter would allow, but his arms were full and Kate's were above her head.

He couldn't hold her.

Couldn't kiss her. Couldn't force her believe he would be coming back.

And all around them the room felt like it was melting.

Castle pressed himself in as close as he could, the three of them huddled in around each other in one corner as the building burned. He shuffled, hoisted his daughter against his shoulder and leant forwards, straining against the resistance in his legs, the muscles protesting being forced into such a strange angle.

She lifted her eyes, tilted onto the balls of her feet and met him as best she could, and finally finally he was able to press his forehead to hers and she scrunched her eyes shut.

There was a hitch in her breath, a half sob that she caught and would not let loose. Not now. He would never leave if she started that now.

She felt the heat of his skin, the press of his daughter between them, a half shuddered breath that drew her attention down to the girl.

The reason this had all happened, their search for his missing daughter had been nothing but a ruse, the girl used like a pawn in a game far beyond her understanding. They had been lured here, separated and made vulnerable.

Divide and conquer.

She had known what was coming, what choice he wanted to force Castle into making and unable to watch him suffer through that inevitable decision, Kate had made it for him.

She sent Castle after his daughter knowing her fate and now -

Kate coughed again, more forcefully and shook her head, the back of her throat burned and they couldn't waste anymore time.

"Go please." She whispered harshly, her forehead pressing into his one last time before she pulled away.

He held her eyes for as long as he could the smoke getting thicker, the heat making his skin ache, tense and tight. He felt the hair on his arms and his knuckles singe and burn away.

He backed towards the door trying to hold himself together, taking as much of her with him as he could. He held her eyes, and the depth of words she couldn't express as she was battered by another wave of coughing. He watched her twist under the pain of the cuffs that held her suspended and he swallowed thickly, willing himself to leave her.

When his back collided with the door Castle saw everything fall away from her. The worry, the terror, all of it slipped from her face.

Replaced by acceptance.

Love.

She was giving up and he hated it, loathed and abhorred it. He couldn't bear her doubt and her surrender.

"Beckett!" He barked, "Believe me, please. I _am_ coming back for you."

She nodded weakly, he heard the hum of a reply barely leave her lips and watched her head tip to rest against one shoulder. A slow drift as the smoke stole her air and the coughing sapped her energy.

"I swear it."

"I know you do, get her someplace safe, Castle. Now."

He turned from her, more determined than before. He could do this for Alexis, get her to safety, and he would do the same for Kate. He charged through the door his eyes closing briefly as he slipped through the flames shielding his daughters head against his chest.

Her face danced behind his lids and he held onto it as he ran.

Kate.

He had to leave her behind.

But he was coming back for her.


	32. No one but you

A continuation of the previous chapter, for the fic bullies with sharp sticks who threatened me with poking if I didn't fix it and for the birthday girl who demanded the same.

* * *

_**"I'd come for you, no one but you...You know I'd always come for you."**_

* * *

She watched him disappear into the thick swirl of soot. His body visible one second and then gone the next as it was swallowed by the clouds of cloying, billowing smoke that seemed intent on consuming them all.

She heard the wood crackle as he went, followed by a loud booming echo of sound that made her want to smile. He was knocking down doors to get his daughter to safety. Walls be damned when Castle was on a mission and she wanted to laugh, to cry and sob her heart out all at the same time.

He would get out.

She kept the words on repeat in her head.

He _would_ get out and Alexis _would _ be safe and it was enough to make her keep up that last ditch struggle to stay alive.

If this was how it ended, she was going out fighting.

She loved him so much, both of them in fact and now,_ now_ at least they were getting to safety. She wrenched up on her tiptoes and let her body weight fall down heavily against the pipe that held her hands above her head.

She felt the ripple and strain surge through the pipe before it settled.

Nothing.

It hadn't budged. She kicked off from the wall, thrusting what little energy remained into the momentum and pendulum swing of her body, trying to force something to loosen or snap free.

* * *

The wood splintered in every direction, already weakened by the fierce heat that continued to close in and he kicked out, his feet forging a dangerous path through the debris.

Another adrenalin surge took his breath away with the rolling wave of smoke, his muscles tensing under the strain, his heart hammering in his chest.

He could take all of those things, as he cradled his daughter close and sprinted down the hallway that led to the stairs, he could take everything physically.

The burn of the heat and pound of flame, the creak and groan of the building that assaulted his ears and his limbs as they battled against one another. He could take it all.

What he couldn't survive, what he couldn't comprehend was the look in her eyes that continued to haunt him as he ran.

Kate.

Her sharp and brilliant beauty marred by the grey smudges of smoke, but not tainted, not diminished, not washed away. His partner and her determination, such a strong force to be reckoned with and he tried to hold onto that in his heart as he ran, but the look in her eyes lingered.

Too vividly, he saw the doubt that had danced in the speckled green and brown. That swirl of misty hazel he had too often and not often enough seen come to life with every smile and arch of her body as she rippled with desire.

Everything she could never say aloud danced in those eyes and he had seen it all.

And then he had been forced to watch it all dim and fade to nothing as she dropped her head to one side and made him leave her. As she offered up her life for theirs, as she gave up hope.

* * *

Hope is a stupid, precious thing and it clings to her skin. The quick flash of her eyes as they dart to the empty doorway in longing, tears at her heart. She wants to see him standing there, at the same time she's glad he's not, not back here risking his life to save her yet again.

She drops down, as flat as she can on her feet, sucking in a breath by breathing against her shirt, trying to stop as much of the smoke from invading her lungs as possible. She needs her strength.

Eyes focused high above her she surges up, and smashes down again on the pipe, everything she has going into dislodging it from the bracket.

It's squeaks, a high pitched grating sound of distress that attacks and hurts her ears. It rattles, it protests and then it settles, barely having budged.

She sobs again in frustration, hot tears falling against her cheeks.

Kate allows herself one second of breath and the agony of despair before she musters what energy she has left to try again, but as she goes down on to the balls of her feet she feels the shift in the floor, hears the crackle and splintering sound of continual burning wood.

* * *

He rounded the corner, the stairs creaking as he took them two at a time, juggling the weight of his daughter in his arms, petrified the floor would give out beneath him.

His eyes closed again as he pictured Kate, her arms still strung above her head, her knees giving out and her body sagging, and his own body responded. His muscles burned and his fingers tightened and he sped up, racing for Kate.

He could do this for her.

He already swore it.

He collided heavily with something, a grunt and growl of exertion leaving his body, winded he buckled, his weight and that of Alexis dragging him forwards.

He caught himself, balanced on his knee and felt the pain ripple upwards, but he would not fall.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he started.

"Castle!" Esposito shouted over the noise of the fire. "Where's Beckett?"

"Take her." Castle bellowed back, launching the body of his still unconscious daughter at the confused Detective. Squeezing the mans hand, he lent in as close as he could, spoke as fast as time would allow, "I'm trusting you with her life Javier, you get her out." He dropped Alexis into the mans waiting hands and brushed his fingers against her head, hard and fast.

A sudden explosive force threw the three of them backwards, Castle managing to catch himself on the stairs before he could land on top of Esposito and his daughter, but the detective went down hard, the teen landing on his chest.

"Are you-?"

"I got her." Espo groaned, hoisting Alexis up and onto his shoulder before using both hands and Castle's assistance to get to his feet. "Get Beckett." His eyes burned as fiercely as the fire around them, an order and a plea all rolled into one.

With one short, sharp nod Castle turned and pounded back up the stairs.

Back to Kate.

* * *

The floor was gone, in at least three quarters of the room, it had caved in and fallen to the floors below. Above her the ceiling was coming down in steady chunks. The one that had taken out most of the floor had pulled the pipe free but something had fallen and now her vision was blurred by a steady drip of blood coming from her head.

She swayed, the heat getting to her as much as the smoke, the blood lost from her wrists and now her head, making her woozy. Kate blinked hard, squeezed her eyes tight, fighting to clear the shimmer and waver to her vision. It did nothing except distort it further.

She looked up, the pipe was loose and hanging but she couldn't lift herself high enough to unhook her hands and pulling down only loosened more of the ceiling.

Wiping her head against her sleeve again, Kate let herself bask in the relief that at least he wouldn't have to see her like this. His daughter was alive and he would survive her loss for the girls sake if nothing else.

She dropped her head to her arm, let her legs sag and turned herself to face the doorway. If this was how she died, the last image she wanted in her head was Castle leaving with Alexis cradled in his arms. He might never admit it, would berate and rile against it after the fact, but he was a hero.

And through the shimmer of smoke she smiled softly, she could almost swear she saw him standing there.

* * *

"KATE!"

He collided with the door frame again, skidded to a stop and sought her out.

The room hazy with heat, smoke and dust blocking his view, obscuring his surety, but through it all he could swear she was smiling.

"KATE!" He yelled again, when she didn't move or respond. Her eyes open wide and watching him. He felt a flare of panic ricochet through his chest, stab it's way through his heart and explode outwards.

Was he too late?

"KATE!"

She blinked. "Castle?"

Barely a whisper, but it was enough, he stumbled forwards and she blinked again, "CASTLE! Castle stop. The floor."

He froze, looked down.

Holes big enough to fall through obstructed his path and he stepped left, and right, avoiding them, testing the wood with every step as he went, hurrying towards her.

He assessed with every tentative footfall, taking in the slice of missing skin on her forehead, the streaks of blood on her clothes and the hanging pipe above her head.

If he could get close enough while she was still awake he could lift her and she could unhook her hands.

But she _had_ to be conscious and the steady roll of her head told him she was barely hanging on.

"Kate." He called out loudly, "Kate, stay awake."

He sidestepped another hole, testing the boards with his feet.

"You came back." She croaked, her eyes lifting to find his. He saw the supreme effort it took for her to lift her head.

"I told you I would." It hurt, more than he would ever care to admit, that she thought he could just abandon her here, alone.

Another three steps forwards, the boards he trod on creaked and groaned, he sprinted over them faster, heard a crash behind him as they gave out, but he didn't look back.

"I told you not to. Alexis?" She twisted a little more, tossed her hair from her face and grimaced as a wave of pain shot through her head.

"With Espo, she's safe." Five or six more steps and he would be at her side. He was close enough now to see her eyes drifting shut, "HEY!" He yelled spurred on and happy when she flinched back into awareness, "Not going to leave you here to die, Kate."

"You never listen."

"I don't listen?" He challenged, he needed her to fight, to respond to banter and battle with him. He needed her to be her. "I told you stay awake, keep your eyes open Beckett."

"Can't Beckett me when I'm cuffed to a pipe, Castle." She groaned, and he huffed. It wasn't funny, but it was and it was maybe enough, just enough to hear her voice with that dark lilt of authority.

He jumped the last gap, landing none too steadily on his feet before stumbling into her.

"Hi." He breathed as he cupped the back of her neck in one hand, pressing the cuff of his shirt sleeve to her head to stave off a little of the bleeding before he got a proper look at the cut. He heard her shallow, raspy reply and hurried on.

She was going to need stitches, a lot of stitches, and she would probably scar. But she was alive, and if she stayed awake long enough and he could get her down, he could _keep_ her that way.

Her body sagged against him, lashes fluttering again.

"Beckett." He shook her a little, enough, her eyes opened and she hummed. "I'm going to pick you up. You have to stay awake and lift your arms, okay?"

"Yeah." She fought it with everything she had, another surge of drowsiness threatening to swamp her, and she shook it off. "Yes." She said with more force.

He dropped down in front of her, his head level with her stomach and his hands at the back of her thighs. Castle didn't wait for more confirmation than she had already given, time ticking away too fast and with a grunt he lifted her straight up into the air.

"Gotta move." She told him, lifting her hands high enough to raise them over the dislodged bracket. "Walk backwards." She instructed, and he did.

He clung to her swaying body as she pressed herself against him and guided him back, her arms shimmying along the pipe by the links of the cuffs.

"Stop, stop, stop."

He froze, craned his neck to watch as she looked behind him petrified. They must be nearing a hole, but it didn't matter. He planted his feet staying exactly where he was and hoisted her higher one last time so she could finally unhook her hands.

He felt the shudder of relief roll through her body as he set her down, felt the spark of possibility and hope reawaken as she uncoiled against him.

Sliding down his body, Kate wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into the curve of his shoulder. Blood and sweat and tears mingled and ran together in the fabric of his shirt as she clung on, feeling his hand come up under her knees and the weight of her body fall away as he held her to him.

"I thought I lost you." She breathed into the smoke and the din as the walls came down around them. They crossed the room and barely made it through the door as the frame splintered and gave out, crash after crash following their escape. "But you came back."

Castle kept moving, her body wrapped around his as they rounded corners and headed for safety. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before he plunged them back into darkness and navigated the stairs. "I told you I would. I would always -"

Her fingers tightened as they as reached the door, both gasping as they crashed through it and stumbled out into the street. Castle didn't need to speak the words for her to read them there, the promise of _forever_ burning with a force a million times stronger and brighter than any fire set to destroy them.


	33. All eyes on us

_**"When we up in the club all eyes on us, all eyes on us."**_

* * *

He could feel the eyes of the world on them, not because she was conspicuous, not because she was beautiful and sensual and gorgeous.

Maybe that a little bit. Maybe that a lot.

But mainly because she fit in so well, so easily. And people couldn't help but stare at her, at them.

She nodded her head, supposedly in time to the beat, and if he didn't know her, hadn't been watching her for four years, wasn't currently glued to her undulating body, he would have bought it.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

She would have had him totally fooled amongst the pulsating lights and writhing bodies, she would have had him convinced.

She let the higher notes of the heavy, heart pounding, music pass her by, concentrating instead on hitting the base beat with each tilt of her head. She moved like she was completely lost in the feral, primal blast and thud of music as it coursed through her body.

She twisted her hips, ground against the palms of his hands on her waist, making his arms move with her. And she did it so naturally, so convincingly, her body shouting for release as she battled the beat, as she fought the music, her mood lifting rapidly, that even he found himself staring at her.

Every so often her head would tilt back to rest against his chest and she would laugh, like she really was letting loose, setting her body free in the dark, almost suffocating, heat of the club.

But he followed her eyes, saw her nod again to Esposito.

She was far, far too good at this.

Another deep sway of her hips had him wishing he could freeze time with her like this. The slow, sensual pull of her body made the taking of each breath a fraught, yet delicious, agony that caused her chest to collide with his.

Freeze time, right here and now. Freeze it.

Then she was pulling herself around him, with one hand on his shoulder she coiled herself around his chest. Her bare thigh, naked legs that seemed to go on and on forever, slid between his own as she drew herself into the circle of his arms. Taking a deep breath, her body touching every inch of his own, she slowly began pushing his hands down her back to curve at her waist.

Then she pushed them a little lower and smirked up at him.

Before he could do more than open his mouth, she did it again. Making him remember why they were here. Another deep nod of her head, this one aimed over his shoulder, to Ryan who was waiting at the bar.

He fought against his baser instincts, his urge to lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist. To drive her backwards into the wall and pin her there. He fought hard and swallowed thickly before he spoke.

"We on?" He hummed when her ear slid past his lips.

She laughed and pulled herself back, her cheek sliding along the length of his before their eyes caught.

"Aren't we _always _?" She teased, and he really did try to focus on the misty smolder of her gaze, but he found his eyes roaming of their own accord. Over the soft waves of her hair brushing past his jaw, over the swathe of skin exposed by the neckline of her midnight blue dress. His eyes lingered on the flush to her cheeks that he wanted to kiss, until he gave in and let them tumble further south and he found himself lost in, devoted to, the magnetic pull of her glistening red lips.

They curved up into a slow, sexy smile just for him, even though every eye in the room was on her, had been all night.

She fixed him with such a focused and steady gaze that he felt like the entire world had evaporated, the room suddenly emptied, leaving nothing but the two of them. Her hot breath dancing against him, her body following suit, and they moved in a practiced rhythm usually saved for far more private settings.

Her steady smirk told him she knew exactly what he was thinking, that she was thinking it too. Maybe she had gotten there first and was finally letting him in on her little secret.

She laughed and his fingers tightened at the sound.

"Take down?" He asked hurriedly, assuring himself his voice was still working, lips tongue and mouth all still communicating with his brain. Just.

Didn't help when she took the words he spoke so innocently and smiled as she made them mean something else entirely. Another dirty look of passion washing over her face.

Wow.

Her eyes devoid of anything but hunger and knowing. The rich intensity of need spilling through her veins and sparking from the tips of her fingers. If she wasn't working she would have him somewhere here, tonight, right this minute!

_If_ she wasn't working she would blow his mind.

Hard and fast.

Dirty and sweaty.

But she is working so she gives him everything she can as she dances, making promises they will both keep until the wee hours of the morning as they meet the rising sun with the surge of their entwined bodies.

"As soon as the song ends." She ground against the pressure of his palms, a soft sound of pleasure leaving her lips, barely audible above the ever present thump of the music. She let him pull her into his chest, dragging her hands over the broad expanse of his ribs and abdomen, setting off the crackle of heat, feeling it spark like flint where they touched and he heard her gasp.

Castle caught the surge of adrenalin, excitement and arousal take root in her eyes.

Screw freezing her in time - his hand drifted along the ridges of her spine as her fingers tangled in his hair - he doesn't want this song to end.

Ever.


	34. Makes me feel better

_**"Your tongue on my tongue, makes me feel better."**_

* * *

She arches her back, knuckles white in the sheets and her lips part in a wordless cry.

Breathless and shocked she rises high, seeking escape, longing for more, his mouth unforgiving, relentless, devoted and adoring.

Punishing.

He holds her prisoner with nothing but the promise of ecstasy.

He leaves her devoid of choice as he seeks to break her apart, wringing the pleasure from her in wave after wave as she thrums through with the intensity of it.

And the weight of the day leaves her.

His fingers at her thighs bruise, tease, soothe. Touch and stroke. Hold her down when she can't rise high enough to have him all, lift her up when he wants more. Her muscles ache anew and he appeases them with tender touches that become steadily rougher as she soars skywards.

She needs that counterpoint of sensation.

Hard and soft, rough and gentle.

Heaven as he gives, hell as he holds back.

His fingers slide slower, _lower_, they curl and her eyes open wide to starlight. Bursts of brilliant illumination, lighting the darkness, how she loves him, how he loves her. Another touch, another kiss, another explosion of energy.

Her body hums and the weight of the day leaves her.

The ripples of the muscles in his back dance in the moonlight. His tongue slides and curls, thumbs and fingers and hands and all.

His name escapes her mouth in silence, but he hears it anyway. He knows, he understands, his caresses slow as she shudders through it.

As the weight of the day leaves her.

His hands span her waist, she feels tiny with the enormity of it all. She opens her eyes and his mouth, heavenly, and on her yet again, steals her sight. Steals her breath.

He could take it all, but before he can even think to ask she is giving it up willingly.

But she can't... she can't...too soon, too much.

Never, ever enough.

A long steady line of working muscle and her skin wet with saliva make her head spin, her eyes roll until she sees the pulsing blood vessels behind her closed lids.

He chants her name, over and over until she looks at him. Until she can focus on _him_.

His eyes so blue in the moonlight.

She feels his steady climb over her body. Every touch a masterpiece, a work of art. He is a savant, her body his instrument.

And the weight of the day leaves her.

One hand holds him away so his mouth and fingers can roam, trace, tickle, touch. Love. He hovers above her and she stares up, eyes wide and absorbing it all.

Her hips rock, her back lifts and her arms stretch, everything reaching for him. Aching with a different need. How she loves him, it escapes her lips in a whimpered sob of want, breaking around the single syllable of his name.

Oh, how she loves his name, the way it breaks, rough and raw, from her mouth.

His lips at her stomach slide higher, wet lines glistening in the moonlight and her blood sings watching him.

Their eyes and hearts and minds as connected as ever.

He kisses each rib, lathes the indentation between each bone and sucks at the flesh under each breast. He breathes out, pauses, licks the shiver across her skin and chases it higher.

She moves beneath him, willing him closer and as she invites him in he lowers himself, their skin meeting in joyous reunion.

And the weight of the day leaves her.

His mouth is at her collarbone, her neck, her ear, breathing her name across her jaw before he finally nips at her lips. Salty, sweet devotion bathing his tongue when it meets hers, hearts thundering together and a rising swell lifting her into him, pulling him into her.

Her fingers slide into his hair, holding him to her. With the touch of his mouth to hers she lets go, again, again, again.

And thanks to him, the weight of the day leaves her, finally, truly, leaves her.

And she floats.

In the warmth of his arms, she floats.


	35. Sexy as hell

_**"Sexy as hell as I come through the door..."**_

* * *

He bit his tongue as she bent over, none too subtly twisting and tilting his head to follow the long, slow progression of the denim as it traveled up her legs and she pulled on her jeans.

He bit harder still when she moaned and wriggled getting comfortable.

He mmm'd under his breath as the dark material encased her thighs slowly, his head bobbing with the movement of her body when she jumped on the spot to get the waist into the proper place.

Then she bent over to slide into her boots and he almost fell off of the bed.

"Unngff." His eyes were probably burning holes through the denim, but that ass, that glorious ass. He couldn't turn away from it.

"Like something you see?"

Her voice, light but with an edge of warning, snapped him out of his staring...for maybe half a second.

"Yes...I really..._yeah_."

Kate laughed. "Really?" She held his eye in the mirror as she tossed her hair out from the collar of her shirt, "In scraggy jeans and this" She plucked at her collar again, "..._really_?" Kate continued buttoning, watching the glazed expression reappear on his face, not getting an answer to her question as he resumed his starring contentedly.

"Your ass should have the word _spoiler _ tattooed across it."

"My ass? Are you...what?" Kate turned, her mouth opened in confusion and she forged on. "Anyway, you've seen my tattoo, you _liked_ my tattoo..."

"Mmm...yes I did...do." He smiled in remembrance, "I _really _ do."

"...you visit it frequently." She teased, walking towards him tugging the shirt free from her waist.

"Well that's because it's on your...

"And that doesn't even make sense. Why would my _ass_ be a spoiler?" She stopped in front of him, her head angled in challenge and her lips pursed in that kissable way that he really, really liked.

"Cos you've_ spoiled _ me for anyone else?" He reached for her belt loops and pulled her in, their hips colliding as she exhaled a soft _oof_ and tried to glare.

_Tried._

Oh, he loved it when he got her all...foe glarey just from a stupid comment, it meant sexy, slightly annoyed Beckett would come out to play. All bantery and hot and teasing about things she could actually show him now...Like the ice cube trick, and that thing with marshmallows.

His eyes dropped to her cleavage, the shirt just unbuttoned enough to give a glimpse of her breasts and he tried to figure some way of working them into the conversation.

She clicked her fingers in front of his face. "Eyes up bud!" She warned, and he licked his lips looking up sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes, letting her weight fall against him, their bodies in tight and perfect alignment.

"Cos your ass is undercover and I'm the only one gets a..._sneak peek_." He squeezed, his hands roaming, pleased with himself as her cheeks pinked up at the contact.

Her facial cheeks...the ones on her _face_, he had no idea what was going on underneath her...and now he really wanted to...

"Cos dat ass is..."

She snorted, "Did you just say '_dat'_?" She shuddered, "Oh no that, _that_ does not work for me."

"What _does_ work for you?"

Her hands did a little roaming of their own, rotating over the luscious curves of his...

"Derriere?"

She laughed into his neck, squeezing back as she spoke, "Ass wasn't the word I had issue with."

"Oh no?" His lips smiled against her skin, kissing one cheek, fingers stroking the other. He asked knowing before she answered,"Was it my blatant abuse of the English language that got you all riled up?"

"Dat? Eugh..." She shuddered again, her body rolling into his and Kate hummed against his skin. Warm and happy, her fingers sliding into his back pockets, she kissed a slow path across his jaw.

"You gonna arrest me for it?"

"What am I now, the _language _ police?" Her lips danced across his earlobe.

He cocked his head in consideration, and giving her better access..."Depends, do you have to wear a uniform?"

She flicked her fingers lightly over the buckle of his belt, "We have a _plain clothes _ dress code."

"Plain clothes...or_ no clothes_?" He asked hopefully, using his teeth and tongue to untangle the button of her shirt, grinning when it popped open.

"You know what they say, Castle..." She bit her lip, stepping back, grinning wickedly and tugging down the zipper of his pants.

"Move that ass?" He started to smile, but the look fell away replaced by downright dirty _lust_ when she shook her head and pointed...

"Get on the floor."


	36. Search forever

A sort of post ep for Hunt. For reasons.

* * *

_**"If you're ever lost and find yourself all alone, I'd search forever just to bring you home..."**_

* * *

She spends the night in quiet contemplation. She feels calm and peaceful, safe. She eats when the food passes before her, smiles when she's smiled at, answers questions that float around the topic but never actually delve into it. She's content to let him reconnect, let him laugh and smile and touch and do all the things she expects.

He puts on the show and she lets him, her eyes lingering from a distance.

In silence, she watches.

She knows she's not the only one, she knows when he yawns loudly and flops onto the couch with a long drawn out sigh, that immediately every eye in the room will fall to him.

The feel of it all bubbles away inside her and in the silence she watches, trying to understand.

Her father is a hero and it takes her by surprise.

The lengths he will go to, the force of his love and conviction, his determination, the way he loves. His ability and capacity for it. This great, huge, powerful force that takes him over, makes him take risks and not care about himself.

He's a hero.

Not just _her _ hero, he's been that since he banished the sock gremlin and the boogie man and the monsters under her bed. Since he helped mend her first broken heart with tissues and ice cream and the promise that _yes, even though she was the grand old age of eleven she would find love again._

Alexis lets her eyes fall to Kate, to the soft half smile, drenched with relief, that lingers over her face when she looks at him. She finds herself oddly surprised to see it burning brighter still when Kate lifts her head and smiles directly at her.

She sees it all echoed back, in Kate's eyes, in her grandmother's eyes. Her father is a _hero_.

Not just because he protects his friends and throws himself in front of bullets for the woman he loves. Not just because he risks life and limb, for justice, at her side.

Alexis takes a deep breath, lets it settle in her chest and her heart.

It's not because he flew halfway around the world, willingly paying _anything _ for news of his daughter. Not because he walked into an ambush, walked out of it with a father and immediately ran into battle to save her life. Not because he tricked international assassins and cajoled spies and lied to thieves, kidnappers and murderers.

He was, is and will _always_ be her hero, but not because he promised to stay awake for the entire flight home so she could sleep, even though jet lag was weighing him down. Not because he calmed her panic when she woke from a dream, convinced she was still locked away, alone and afraid. Not because he convinced her to spend the last twenty minutes of the flight detailing her lock picking expedition using jelly beans as props.

She crosses the room, kisses his cheek and whispers she's going to bed, nodding when three separate sets of voices ask if she's ok.

She climbs the stairs, switches off the light and tumbles onto the mattress fully clothed. She leaves the door open an inch so the faded light from downstairs can trickle in, and so when he comes to check on her -because inevitably he will- he can peek inside and see her safe.

And she will dream a dreamless sleep.

She's home, she's safe and her father is a hero.

Because he loves her with his whole heart, down to the deepest depths of his soul, with every _fibre_ and _ounce _ of his being. And he never ever, for one single second in her entire life, lets her doubt it.


	37. Wanna scream

Because I am feeling the self inflicted pain of stupidity and clumsiness right now!

* * *

_**"If you wanna scream, yeah..."**_

* * *

Her eyes are closed, her entire body still in the bed when he enters the room. She looks serene, at last, calm and peaceful so Castle takes a deep breath, relieved, and lets the door shut behind him with a soft shhft...

That makes her head snap up.

_Shit_.

Her lips pale and her eyes narrow immediately, glaring at him. So far _beyond_ a 'Beckett death glare' that he startles, jumping backwards as if zapped by the lightning force of her anger, throwing himself against the wall for safety.

"Kate..." He starts, tentatively. He has to try and get a word in first. Explain because this is so not _all_ his fault...

"This is all your fault!" She growls, grimacing as another wave of pain surges through her. She clutches at her stomach with one hand in a vain attempt to stem the tide, to hold off the agony.

It does nothing and he steps closer wanting to be there for her, _with_ her, wanting to hold her hand. But her knuckles flash stark white against the pale blue sheet covering her and she focuses all the pain roaring through her body into her eyeballs, sending laser beams of misery in his direction.

"It takes two to tango, Beckett." He smiles weakly, trying for a little life saving humor, hopefully, maybe...

"Don't you come near me." She barks, her body contorting with pain until, on a deep breath, she drops back to the bed.

Castle takes a tentative step towards her anyway and as she opens her mouth to speak -yell, berate, from the look of her eyes maybe maim and kill- the door opens and a nurse wanders in.

She's young, clearly new and just a tad too bouncy even for him. Her smile is wide and she's humming the tune of something familiar as she taps the same beat against a clipboard she holds tight in her hand.

"Miss...Beckett? How's the..."

"Detective." Kate grits out, growling the word through her clenched teeth, muscles working hard in her jaw.

"Which detective?" The nurse asks, her eyes still on the chart and Castle flinches.

Oh no, no, the last thing Beckett needs when she's in pain is someone dense rubbing her the wrong way.

Denser than him that is. Guilt flares through his chest again, he is an idiot, moron, a dunce, a cretin, a fool. He is an entire walking thesaurus of moranity (if that's a word) and stupidity, because it was an accident...it was a_ total_ accident, an _unplanned_ accident and now-

"Meee." Beckett seethes, the slow blink that should turn the nurse to stone doing little but setting his pulse on Rumba or Lambada or Tap dance frenzy, something...

"Oh, I see." The nurse laughs, looking Kate up and down, her appearance doing little to convince the woman.

Her hair had been up in this pretty bun twisty thing but now it falls in disheveled strands over her flushed and sweaty face, her shirt is rumpled and the way her body contorts in pain, strikes flames against the tender edges of his heart.

"Do you?" Kate growls, her head thudding back onto the pillow as she breaks eye contact for a few seconds and Castle finally feels able to breathe again.

It doesn't last long.

The nurse raises her eyebrows to Castle and he tries to shake his head in warning, tries to send subliminal messages straight into her brain that _no_ Kate is not floopy or crazy or anyone that you should be _turning your back on_ right now. Yes, she is in fact a detective and she does have a gun and _for gods sake woman_ you are taking your life in your hands by talking to her in that crazy high pitched singsongy voice.

"Drugs are kicking in I see." The nurse laughs, unaware of the danger.

Kate's eyes cut to her bouncing blond ponytail, to her cheerful baby bear pin and fall finally to rest on her ever tapping pen as it raps incessantly against her clipboard.

"I haven't _had _ any drugs." Kate claws at the bed as she drags herself into a sitting position with one hand.

"Would you like me to fix that Miss-?"

"DETECTIVE!" Kate yells, snatching the pen from her hand as the nurse offers her something to sign. She pouts petulantly, her face at war between pain and annoyance, feeling sorry for herself and feeling the need for vengeance on...anyone.

The nurse turns from the bed mumbling under her breath and Castle startles all over again when he sees her top lip quiver and guilt flares twice as fierce as before. He reaches out, stepping away from the bed to intercept, to fix it - it's his fault after all- but the door opens behind him again and the scarily in charge voice of Lanie Parish floods the room.

"Katherine Beckett do not yell at the people in charge of your pain relief."

Kate's eyes narrow for barely a second before her face falls and she whines, "This hurts Lanie."

Lanie grabs the chart, holds the door for the happily escaping nurse and takes over, filling the room with a sense of calm Castle never realized he desperately missed. "Well _yeah_, you dislocated your shoulder Kate."

"He did." She focuses all of her attention on Castle, her eyes shining, "Him not me. _Him_. He spun me Lanie," She turns to her friend for sympathy, "Some Tango move he saw on the T.V."

Lanie covers her mouth, glancing at Castle, her head angled and questioning, he shakes his own in response and Lanie rolls her eyes.

"He dipped me and then flung me-

"Your heel broke, Beckett." Castle defends, coming to her side at the bed whether she likes it or not, "Your crazy four inch _spiked _ heel broke...and I wasn't dipping you I was-"

"Throwing me."

"-saving you."

"Down the stairs." She growls.

"From a suspect with a gun." He whispers, "and it was six stairs, just six-"

"JUST!"

"-and you landed awkwardly."

"Wait, gun?

"You didn't tell her?" Lanie asks, her eyes on the chart but her grin all too aware, too knowing.

Castle smirks, "Couldn't get a word in."

Kate rolls her eyes but most of the anger has simmered away now. "The suspect had a gun?"

Castle nods, and he holds up a hand as Kate starts to talk, "Don't worry Espo and Ryan got him. No paper work either, the Captain took pity on you." Castle grimaces, "She said being saddled with a childish oaf with two left feet was punishment enough."

Kate makes a face, somewhere between thank god, thank you and ow as she moves and her shoulder twinges again. "Not an oaf." Kate grumbles, "But...no more spinning. Your dance moves leave a lot to be desired, Castle."

"I resent that." Castle risks a touch, running his fingertip over the back of her hand. "I'm light on my feet and I can be very graceful when I ow ow ow..."

He flinches as she crushes his hand in her own, nails that feel like talons piercing his skin and her grip...he's fairly certain he's not letting her near his special area ever, _ever_ again.

Pain marrs the almost-smile that just glanced her lips before the hurt came roaring back and he tries not to yelp, scream or full force sob as her movement sends waves of agony through her body...directly into his hand.

He grimaces and counts to ten, sings a song to help him get there, but by six he's back to wanting to scream.

And then she relaxes.

Castle glances to Lanie, her eyes catching his and darting to the I.V before flitting away innocently, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. He turns at the sound of the door opening, his hand clenched tight in Kate's, but in the good way, and he prepares himself to intercept another unsuspecting nurse.

He almost gasps when he sees the woman who fled not five minutes before, smile back in place and a determined look on her face he appreciates.

Maybe it's the ever lessening death grip she has on his hand, maybe the pain meds worked faster than he anticipated but either way Kate's looking a lot more pliable, especially now she knows the truth about her accident.

"We'll step outside." Lanie says quietly. Kate nods at them both, giving Castle a small smile when he hums, "_Be nice_" at her ear before following Lanie from the room.

In the neon lights of the hospital corridor he let's out a long slow breath turning to Lanie, his eyes wide and his face pale, clutching his still throbbing hand to his chest. He cradles it protectively, pouting down at it as he says,"Remind me never to get that woman pregnant." He hisses, "She's gonna kick my ass in the delivery room."

Lanie's eyes lift from her the folder, her mouth falling open and Kate's blood test forms in her hand. Her eyes widen, "Oh writer boy...you are in _so _ much trouble..."

"WHAT?" Castle screeches, stumbling into Lanie and trying to grab the files from the woman's hand.

She snickers and he reels backwards, one hand to his chest with barely subsiding panic, horror and realization washing over him, and a tiny amount of admiration for the M.E. She winks, turning on her heel, leaving Castle behind her as he yells. "That's not funny, Lanie."


	38. You got it

Happy belated birthday to the lovely Deb838. Where I am it's still the 8th so it still counts :P

* * *

**_"You got it, you're wow, wow, wow, wow."_**

* * *

It's a little over a week since they started this, she thinks, as she turns the oven low and leaves the food to warm through. A week and three days...ugh ten days, not that she's counting.

Except, she sort of... _is_.

Ten days into this _thing_ that they've started and he wants to celebrate reaching double digits. He's such a child, she smiles, a very manly _let's celebrate every little thing _ type of child and she loves it.

Him, she loves him.

Ten days in and it's sort of an anniversary and she just can't stop smiling.

Kate tidies as she goes, throwing things into piles, his shirt, her sock, a sheet, a towel and she flops onto the bed, pulling her knees up. And she smiles and smiles and smiles.

Ten days in and they've had sex twenty seven times. Thirteen of those times in this bed -not that she's counting - and she scrubs at her eyes wondering if she's lost her mind. Sex is maybe the thing that rots your brain, not T.V not violent video games, not junk food. Sex, really really_ good _ sex. Excellent, mind numbing and bone tingling sex.

It breaks your brain, she thinks, it makes you sentimental and crazy and now she's craving it. And very soon she can have..._it_.

_Him_, a lot of him.

It's sort of an anniversary, so tonight she's aiming for thirty - with a little helping hand...oh his hands...- and if they reach that, well, there's no reason not to challenge him to hitting the big four oh by the end of the weekend. If he stays over...he could stay, stay for more than the night.

She smiles when she hears the tap at the door and makes herself breath deeply, count to ten...that's really five, before she's rushing to answer.

He's standing there grinning, holding out a bottle of wine when she pulls open the door, with this soft light behind his eyes that makes her heart clench.

Her stomach flip.

All the cliches and all the truth behind them. They swoop at her, making her cheeks flush and her fingers curl into her palm in desperation to grab him.

Love, there it is, neon bright and shining from him in that warm and tender light that emanates from his eyes.

"Hi." He smiles, or grins, or just exists, and her heart - she breathes faster touching at her chest- it's beating against her tonight.

His fingers curl, knuckles softly brushing her cheek when he leans in and kisses the edge of her mouth.

He pulls back when she doesn't answer, but Kate smiles wider and brighter, fisting her hands in his jacket to pull him back, kissing him slow and deep. A silent greeting that says more than she ever could. More than she's ever been able to.

When they part he mumbles "Wow!" against her lips, his eyes opening slowly, looking thoroughly knocked out of his socks, just as she intended, and Kate laughs.

"Don't think I won't tease you about that." She pokes, making herself let him go to close the door.

He's already moving inside, opening the wine, "About what?" He asks, feigning innocence as he pops the cork and reaches for glasses.

He knows where she keeps her glasses...

Kate bites her lip to keep in the smile and when it doesn't work she prods him instead. "That little 'wow' you just moaned." Her eyes lift in challenge, half lidded with warmth "I'll be using that against you when you least expect it." Her hand darts out and snags a grape from the bowl and she pops it into her mouth chewing slowly, watching him.

_He_ watches_ her_ right back, his eyes glued to her lips for a few seconds, holding the stem of the wine glass before sliding it across the counter towards her. "Oh, you wanna talk about moaning I'm sure I have..."

He shuts up when her fingers slide over his lips, popping a grape into his mouth before her thumb smears over the wetness left by the fruit.

"Play fair." She warns.

He never does.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" He hums, his lips warm at the back of her neck and one arm casually slung around her waist, pulling her back against him.

"Nothing." She lies, cheeks pink and lips fighting a smile.

"Kate." He drawls, holding onto her name with his tongue like it's too precious a thing to let go of. Dragging it out, making it coaxing and longing and alluring at the same time.

"You," She whispers softly, "Us, this and..."

"Ten months." He sighs, both delighted and shocked.

And, really, she can't blame him. She feels the same way. Ten months and she hasn't killed him, he hasn't driven her insane - anymore than usual- and somehow...still going strong, better than ever, working at it together.

"Don't be mad." He warns, turning her in his arms. "I said _don't_ be." He smirks and Kate tries to school her face, too late he's seen the wrinkles of annoyance threading their way over her forehead, the clench of her lips. He knows her.

"We said." She shakes her head, not the least bit surprised, "You agreed."

"Ten months!" Castle replies by way of explanation, her waist the perfect place to rest his hands, her hips and chest so warm against his own when she thuds into him. Just a little tug and she's right there pressing against him and relaxing into it.

He moves as if to kiss her and her lids dip in preparation, eyes warm and soft and hidden, but he makes a beeline for her ear instead. "Congratulations," he breathes heatedly as her eyes widen "you survived ten months with me."

She grimaces shoving him away half heartedly, her fingers still holding tight to his shirt front to stop him going far. "What did you do?"

"Just a little something." He grins, happy in the knowledge she knows him ... maybe better than he realizes.

He reaches for the box behind her, struggles for a few seconds with her squashed against his chest and steadfastly refusing to go anywhere. She chuckles and he brings a small pink and white frosted cupcake up between them, laughing himself when her mouth falls open.

"See?" He hums, pleased with himself "It hardly counts at all."

Kate breathes out, long and slow letting her heart right itself from its upside down position in her chest. She stares at him, seeing the cupcake and herself and a thousand other beautiful, scary things she wants, all reflected back from those bright, adoring, blue eyes.

God, she loves him.

"It counts." Kate says softly, her thumb scooping through the icing, grinning as she sucks it into her mouth.

He follows her movement, his eyes darkening in ever increasing shades of desire, his fingers tightening when his pupils blaze, and Kate feels the steady flutter of certainty through her stomach.

They will be crossing a few more numbers off the '_charts of them_' tonight, a new milestone maybe, not that she's counting anymore. She hasn't for a while, she doesn't need to.

But ten months, that's good that's really really... _lovely_ and she rocks onto the tips of her toes to kiss him.

It definitely counts.

Double digits. They have to celebrate it, it's sort of their thing.

It lasts a while, warm and familiar and leading, this kiss, the perfect amount of distraction and tease and tongue all melding together. She holds his face, breathing heavily when she finally pulls herself back from it.

"Wow." He hums around the burst of sugary sweetness that still lays over his tongue, the icing playing second fiddle to the remarkable woman in his arms.

Yeah, that's it, _them _ in a nutshell, she thinks, unable to stop herself from smiling, rising up and kissing him again, threading her fingers through his hair and closing her eyes...

Wow!


	39. Thunder can sound so frightening

_**"When you breakdown, when you can't take it all, when you're slamming your fist against the wall, thunder can sound so frightening..."**_

* * *

He lets himself in. His coat is wet from the rain, droplets fall from his eyelashes, cling to his hair and his shoes squeak over the wooden floor, but he ignores it all. Thunder drowns out most of it anyway, lightning streaks lighting up the darkness of her home. He ignores that too.

She's here somewhere.

The silence of her apartment, the way it wraps around him as he listens, is suddenly broken when he hears the sob. A sharp inhale, a light gasp and Castle imagines the way her body will spasm around the sound. How it breaks through her defences, how she crumbles.

Another lightning streak illuminates everything in a pale white flash and he uses it to scan the room. He whispers her name, wondering what will happen when he finds her. If she will run, or, worse yet, make him leave.

Another sob breaks through, this time darkness lays unhindered by light, no penetrating break to guide his path, but the sound of her voice is enough. The way she whimpers cutting him to the core, the ache to her cries pulling him in the right direction.

She's on the couch with her feet drawn up underneath her, wearing a large sweatshirt. It's rolled over her knees as she holds them to her chest, covering her legs, leaving just the tips of her toes poking out, curling over the edge.

Blue nail polish.

It's the first thing he notices, besides the sobbing that rips him into uneven strips.

Her head is buried, long dark hair spilling down either side of her shoulders and her arms wrap her away from him, from everyone, _everything_. Another sob, breaking the silence, wracks her body and she shudders with the force of it.

She's been here a while.

It comes at him as he closes the door, he can taste it in the air, in the near silent quake of her body, tangible everywhere in the room. Sadness and despair, the way she hurts so very raw. It cuts deeper than he ever thought possible.

"Kate." Castle stops in front of her, counting the seconds as she startles and chokes against the tears, and he waits for her reaction.

Being trapped behind a wall was bad enough. Pushed away, forced back, always made to tow a line and keep his distance. He watched her lie, to others, to herself, to him. That was bad enough.

But there were worse days.

Days during that dark period that lays buried, where he stood daily and stared through glass. All seeing, all knowing and unable to do a damn thing to help. He watched her crack and splinter and fall apart, pounding with angry fists against the unbreakable shield that kept her from him.

He can't go back there. He won't let her send him away or cast them aside and he will not leave her alone in this.

So he waits, wondering how far back she will push him this time. Behind the glass? Behind the brick?

Out into the streets?

The sharp jerk of her body as she tries to breathe through the tears draws his attention and he whispers her name again.

He has to risk it. Risk her turning from him, risk losing her for a while...or forever. He will do it a million times over. For the chance to love her and be loved _by_ her, he would do it time and time and time again, because she's worth it.

Together. They are so much better _together_.

He waits, expecting accusation, recrimination, yelling and more fighting. Her head lifts and he expects the mask, anger at the forefront, determined and defending.

He gets none of it. Instead she lets him see.

Her eyes, red rimmed and sore and burning with tears, shed and unshed both, find his. And she lets him see.

The hurt, the sorrow, the part she can't explain.

"Is there anything-?"

He pleads, knowing it's bad. A split second is all it would have taken. And she lets him see. He's witnesses the devastation that would have been left behind.

Great silent tears roll down her cheeks and she shakes her head, shudders, shrugs. "I don't..."

She doesn't know.

Sometimes the bad days sneak up on you and take you by surprise. Sometimes all you can focus on are the 'what ifs'.

Sometimes the tears fall and there is nothing you can do to stop them.

She can tell it hurts him, that she can't answer. It breaks her heart that he is content to suffer though uncertainty just to sit at her side, and all at once it's too much.

Her eyes roam his body, his face, his eyes, everywhere, consuming him. Absorbing him in the misty water-colored beauty created by her tears. He shimmers as salty tracks streak down her face.

It's too much and too easy, because there_ is_ something. Something he can do.

"Just..."

Her voice sparks light in his eyes and that helps.

Something_ only_ he can do, because he's here and he's ok, and so is she.

She lifts her arm, holds out her fingers and he nods. That helps.

He sits by her side, lowers himself onto her couch still dressed in his wet coat and rain squeaky shoes, staring into the nothingness of her dark apartment.

They stare together, and it helps.

Palm up on the sofa, he takes her hand in his and interlaces their fingers. He feels her long, slender digits curl up around his knuckles, her thumb when it sweeps the back of his hand, the warmth of her fingers leeching into his own.

And it helps.

Sometimes the bad days sneak up on you, sometimes the tears fall and there is nothing you can do to stop them.

She leans into him, her sorrow dampened hair falling onto his coat, soaking up the remnants of rain until her head rests on his shoulder. She reaches across his body, her hand falling open on his knee as she searches. But he's already meeting her halfway.

She sighs, and blinks through the wavering sadness that lingers but finally starts to dissipate. Sometimes a hand to hold in the dark is the only thing you need.


	40. When you came in

"**When you came in, the air went out."**

* * *

Kate took a deep breath and let it all wash over her, a great rolling wave of awareness that seemed to throw the world into silence, her body humming and shivering, and even as the noise around her grew louder her own little bubble of quiet awareness remained.

Her eyes darted in the pitch black shadows, opening wide to absorb the light, her pupils huge in the darkness, seeking him out, knowing he was close.

It was instinctive.

She could_ feel _ him.

This thrilling sense of anticipation brought about by his encroaching presence and it danced through her blood like fire, and ice and rain, cataclysmic and eternal, and everything around her seemed suddenly thrown into blinding, brilliant focus. There was an electric snap in the atmosphere as though the entire world was reacting to it. Awareness and senses heightened to the extreme, every hair standing on end, a fizzing crackle rolled the length of her spine, as though a switch had been flicked and every nerve ending was brought to life.

She drew in a deep, deep breath, sucking it to the very depths of her lungs, letting it open her up, bringing life and confidence, surety and strength. She held it there, trapped, burning, desperate to escape, as she savored the wait.

Because when he entered the room, even here with all these people, even after all this time, he stole her breath away, and no matter how deeply she pulled the inhalation in advance, seeing him thoroughly undid her. He stole her ability to reason and be calm, the thief of normalcy and poise, he took her breath and made her gasp.

Out loud, wanton and free.

And, circling the room, dropping out of sight, he took her _literally_.

Their fingers entwined and he pulled her into him, their bodies colliding as he dragged her out of the way of prying eyes. He took her breath again and again as their mouths connected, their tongues tangled and their hands roamed, feeding from each other in a frenzied hunger.

He decimated the careful construction of her hair with the artful twist of his fingers, sliding through silken strands, wrapping them around his knuckles, weaving them between his fingers.

His lips nipping at her own with barely restrained demand.

He grazed her hips and raised the slit of her dress indecently high, pressed himself between her thighs and made her cling to him as he set about smudging her lipstick. Red stains at the edge of her mouth widening her kiss, he absorbed her, fed from her, bit nipped and sucked on her skin until she was arching from the wall uncontrollably.

He left her tousled and pink, creased and wanting.

Panting.

Breathless.

His mouth stole over hers once more, the thick muscle of his tongue tasting the bow of her lips. "Marry me?" He whispered, "I love you."

Fisting his hand in her hair he kissed her, leaving her in no doubt that he meant it. He smiled, pressed his forehead to her own and, as quickly as he came, he was gone. Leaving her to calm her raging heart, to adjust her dress and press her fingers to her pounding, blood infused lips. The taste of his tongue still lingering in her mouth, the feel of his body still wrapped around her own.

He left her to ponder the question posed so readily.

Her hand clamped over her heart as she tried calm its frantic beating, but he'd stolen her breath away yet again.


	41. I know this much is true

**A/N**: A follow on from the chapter before...

* * *

**_"I don't know what you've done to me, but I know this much is true..."_**

* * *

She catches up to him just as he is about to go on stage. His frantic stride taking him from her fast, but she's faster, she takes down criminals in heels for god's sake.

And he just...kissed her senseless, proposed and ran away.

She sneaks up to him with a determined leer, her fingers coil around his neck, both hands fisting in his jacket so she can rise onto her toes, press her lips to his ear and breathe out her answer.

"Yes."

It leaves her mouth in an intoxicating rush, a jolt of joy that splinters from her tongue and dances its way through the atmosphere until it reaches him. He looks stunned.

She shoves him away before he can come to his senses.

Shoves him out through the curtain and into the spotlight, making him stumble as the words sink in, and her laughter lifts him center stage.

The audience laugh - with her, maybe- as he skitters into place behind the podium looking as disheveled as she had only moments before.

He adjusts his jacket, tucks his shirt back in, "It's not what it looks like." He jokes with the crowd, his words booming around the room, people at the tables looking up, their eyes wide and disbelieving. "Well, maybe it is." He looks down at himself and shrugs.

Laughter fills the room.

He's making it worse, she's going to kill him, but she smiles.

"It's just that I asked my-"

_Don't say muse, don't say muse, don't say muse_ she chants in her head, her knuckles white as she grips the curtain, watching from the sidelines.

He coughs, struggles, then grins, "...delightful source of inspiration, a question a few moments ago."

The laughter turns quickly to stunned silence.

"And her answer took me a little by surprise." He turns, "Didn't it." He holds out his hand, glaring at her in defiance, with mischief and silliness, and this great big goofy smile plastered on his face. "Detective?"

She walks out, catches his fingers, squeezes hard and leans into the microphone.

"Yes." She answers, angling her head from the bright lights and the crowd of their friends, family and colleagues. This answer again just for him, spilling through with the same amount of joy and tease and happiness. The single syllable meaning more than three simple letters, six years together and a lifetime of promises.

There are murmurs in the audience that draw them back, their locked eyes reluctantly dragging apart.

They did intimate, backstage, with his hands roaming and each hot mingling breath distracting the other. This is where it all gets a little..._big_.

"Yes." She says again, with a sly smile out towards the onlookers, "Yes, it did."


	42. Make me shiver

_**"You lay me down, you make me shiver. Blow me like a floating feather..."**_

* * *

He can't get to grips

with the feel of her lips,

her mouth parting wide

as she takes him inside.

Nor the vibrating moan

in tantalizing tone,

that confirms with each shudder

that she _wants_ no other.

His heart starts to race

at the speed of her pace,

and the feel of her tongue

makes him come undone,

when she circles it slow

and slides it down, low

and oh, good god no...

But she starts to withdraw

humming out she wants _more_.

The feel of his touch,

how his fingers _clutch,_

The press of his kiss,

how his hips lift and twist.

She must have it all,

the rise and the fall.

The determined lilt of her head

as she climbs up the bed

and the light in her eyes,

her hands on his thighs,

make him groan with fierce need,

surging hot blooded seed.

To touch her, to blame her,

to kiss, hold and claim her.

But she holds herself high

with a gyrating sigh,

lifts lace over her head

drops it onto the bed,

Then naked and grinning

convinced that she's winning,

her body a bow

that's arched and aglow,

Hands clamp to his shoulder,

she demands that he hold her

and fingers in place

at the dips of her waist

she swirls over him wet,

but not quite there...yet,

and parts with a moan,

a long lingering groan.

She slides down and hips kiss

even as their lips miss,

his fingers trip trail her spine

a gun powdered line,

that he lights with each touch

the fire too much...

Breath dancing between them

words mumbled, they mean them.

With his hands in her hair

he holds her tight, there.

And her body succumbs

to the feel of his thumbs,

the broad curve of his shoulder

when he rolls her over

protects her, her shield,

feels her body yield.

Their rhythm is soothing

mounting, and moving,

she'll lose her mind

with each long drawn out grind,

Yet he's tender and strong

nothing could be more wrong,

than when he slows to a stop

towering on top.

His eyes holding her own

and for a minute he's thrown,

by the agonized gaze

that_ lust _ induced haze,

That mars green and brown

her forehead a frown,

until she speaks his name

and he whispers the same.

A beg or a plead

confirming their need,

to touch and to move

to find a new groove.

Each rib he trip trails

with the scrape of his nails.

The soft swell of her breast

pressed tight to his chest.

Every deep breath drawn in

they touch, skin to skin.

With wonder, they shudder

holding tight to the other.

Every mounting caress

every gasped "Yes, yes, yes."

swirls tight, takes them under

through each, swell, dip and plunder.

Til eyes opened wide

stars dancing inside,

they surge high together

bound tighter than leather,

fingers curled, holding fast

to make each wave last.

Each ripple, each roll

taking its toll,

higher and higher

through blood searing fire,

they crest it, they soar

their voices a roar.

Now sweaty and drained

and thoroughly claimed,

they collapse hard, to the bed,

his kiss soft at her head,

Bodies sated, they tire

still lost in desire,

love taking them deep

they give in, and sleep.


	43. So much better

**A/N:** A post epi for The Wild Rover.

Also, due to FF issues the last chapter got a little lost in the ether as did some of your reviews and messages so I'm sorry if I missed it, or if you didn't get an alert (I know I didn't). But to alerters old and new, readers and reviewers both, thank you for taking the time to stop by! :D

* * *

_**"I like you so much better..."**_

* * *

She likes him a little bit more, she does, humming up into his lips, the soft press of his knees under her back and his hands still a bit tentative.

She likes him a lot more.

The_ love_ part of who they are, that's not really up for debate anymore, but liking him? That still takes her by surprise.

His fingers tangle in the end of her ponytail, pulling it gently so she releases his mouth, letting go of the hungry kiss to hear the heave of breath that makes her realize she was going at him somewhat..._intensely_.

But she likes him, so really, what does he expect?

Her cheeks warm against his chest as she curls into him, blushes and looks up, liking him a lot, a whole bunch and then some right now. The light of the fire soft as it dances in his eyes, lids just a little slack from the wine and it's late, and she really_ does _ like him.

Sweet and so very innately _good_ that the follies of youth still haunt his dreams.

The light is bright, muted but enough for her to see the lines of his face, see that even though she's been kissing him - would still be kissing him if they didn't both need to breathe - he's not all that convinced.

"I like what I see." She vows, barely a whisper, but she knows he hears by the way his body reacts, slightly rigid, surprised, he freezes against her.

He's looking down at her like, maybe, he likes her a little bit more too, vulnerable and no, he's not loving that feeling and she brushes her fingers across his cheek, smiling softly and letting him know it's ok, she feels it too. So similar in some ways, she can relate to that worried frown, the hesitancy of his fingers over her waist when she fell into him.

Letting someone see the real you, the hidden you, the dark twisted, nasty and sometimes not very moral parts of you, only to have them reject you...it's devastating.

But to have them see those parts, those scary parts you don't even like yourself, and still they stay, still they come for you, want you, kiss you, hold your hand, wait for you, love you and _like _ you...That is terrifying.

Her fingers trail his jaw, she knows that feeling all too well and she likes that he understands, likes that even though it scares him, he lets her see.

She sits up, slowly, holding his hands in place, turning her body until she's sitting in his lap, almost face to face, though she's a little higher, looking down as he watches her. Her knees are tight at his waist, holding his hips with her thighs, her body a complete beautiful bracket of his own as she fits them together.

She starts in on his shirt, the light and dark grey seeming to draw the color from his skin, the bright and the happy from his eyes and she unbuttons it, slowly, one button at a time. Her fingers tangle around the third, slipping under the cloth brushing his skin, warm and lovely as she runs her hands over him, mischief in her eyes. She looks him over, lets him catch her slow appraisal and approval of his chest before she looks up, lashes fanned against her cheeks in the amber glow, smiling coyly, touching skin.

"I _like _ what I see."

Her eyebrow quirks, lips twist and his laugh jumps out of his chest in surprise at her words, fingers tighter when he slides them up the back of her shirt, thumbs teasing her right back.

She shivers. He's beautiful. Naked, open and vulnerable, she likes him, warm and gentle, strong muscles under her hands as she brushes the shirt away from his shoulders.

He pulls his hands away, settles them at her shoulders and watches her, watches her fingers tip-tap happily against him, drumming out an upbeat, bouncy rhythm.

She lets out a long sigh, smiles down to him completely unable to help herself. She likes these new facets of personality, these idiosyncrasies that make him interesting and more and _hers. _The things she has to work at learning, unpeeling him, mentally, figuratively, _literally_.

Kate rises in his lap, pulls herself closer, one hand worming around his neck, under his collar to lift his head towards her. One hand over his heart, the other holding him where she can see, where she can make_ him _ see, she leans in, noses brushing, stroking her cheeks along his own, eyes open wide.

She taps against the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm, lets the warmth of her meaning, the truth behind it, sink in before the words leave her mouth, before she kisses him again. "I like what I see."


	44. Your eyes

**A/N:** OMG! I am just a bit convinced I might not make it until Monday and my spoiler wh*re ish ways have turned against me as I try not to sneak...but willpower I HAVE NONE!

* * *

**_"Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors."_**

* * *

He calls her name.

His finger trails the length of her nose, curls at the corner of her lip and sweeps across her sleepy pout.

She's faking and he knows it, calling her name softly again the lilt of amusement running through his voice, like warm syrup through her blood.

His hand brushes her hair away from her face and his lips breathe across her cheek.

"Wake up, Kate."

He moves, touches, strokes her skin, from fingertip to wrist and along her arm, cupping her shoulder, caressing her jaw.

She smiles and he does too. She can _hear _ it in the way he moves, _feel_ it in the way he touches.

He's above her now, the tip of his nose tracing her own, his arm sliding under her neck. He doesn't draw her away from the bed but slots them together, falling into her sleepy warmth and sighing when she opens her arms, welcoming him.

His breath flutters across her lashes, rousing, breaking through the peaceful haze, an incitement to more if she just -

"Open your eyes, Kate."

She smiles again but doesn't give in, lets him part her lips instead, kissing her in that warm, confident, _forever _ way that melts and moulds them together.

And then she opens her eyes to blue, endless softest blue.

* * *

His hand is in her hair and she blinks furiously trying to keep him from blurring. Everything's blurring and it's so noisy, too loud. Why is it so loud?

She can't stop him from wavering before her. Her fingers clench, holding him tighter.

"Cas-" She gasps, splutters, and his eyes swim. Those pitch black pupils cast adrift in an ocean of indigo sadness, trapped in the depths of his terror.

"Kate, don't talk, just breathe, ok." He turns and she loses his eyes as he yells over his shoulder, "Espo get someone here now, she's bleeding everywhere."

There's a mumbled rush of words. They start out loud and fade, some part of her knows that's probably a bad sign, she tries to concentrate, to focus.

"I don't know." He sobs, his hands searching her head, he blurs again, turns pink, she blinks furiously.

That's not right.

Her fingers squeeze his wrist, pull him closer.

"Castle..."

He looks down, tells her to breathe again, to stay awake, stay with him, but he's blurring. She blinks and his hand drags across her head, wet and warm and oh...

The pink disappears.

Colors fade, the edges shimmer, just his face remains. She blinks again, each breath and every time she closes her eyes a little more of it all drops away. Narrowing in focus, the world dims.

She feels cold, but his hands are warm and his eyes...his eyes are beautiful.

And the last thing she sees.

* * *

Where she sleeps the ice is warm.

Cerulean in calming contrast to the way her fingers tighten.

And soft.

So very soft, this ice she floats in. Tender and gentle.

It makes no sense that everything matches. It makes no sense that everything is _blue_.

* * *

It's quiet in the ice, silent until...

Until his voice permeates, slicing through the muffled, translucent haze.

Persistent, heated whispers she can't quite catch at first. He forces her to focus, to listen more closely.

He sounds so sad.

Longing.

His pleas echo in the silence.

Lingering.

They float back to her from the cavernous walls and stick to her like glue.

Angry, he curses loudly, "Wake up, dammit."

He cries. His heartfelt sobs shatter everything else.

_Blue_, inside and out. The color bleeds from his heart, bleeds from the walls around her, like a waterfall, a steady drip, drip, drip.

Where she sleeps...the ice begins to melt.

* * *

When she opens her eyes the room is dark, the night sky peeking through the window and, taking in her surroundings, Kate realizes she's in a hospital.

Machines beep.

Something tight is wrapped around her face and the air is cool, everything smells strange. The lights buzz and hum, footsteps fill the hallway and her skin tingles. The oxygen at her nose bothers her, her heart races, panic building and...

Something heavy lies on her hand.

Kate turns, her body creaking, her head thundering and a quiet "Oh." of surprise leaves her mouth.

His lips press against her knuckles, in his sleep he stands guard, mumbling her name, pleading for her return, kissing her skin and keeping her grounded.

She pulls her fingers loose slowly, lets his face settle back on the bed, angled against her leg, the tips run through his hair, at once so intimate and familiar, yet new, that her breath catches, her hand quivers.

His eyes open, deep and dark and unbelieving, shining with love and relief.

"Kate?"

She smiles, the tips of her fingers wet where they rest on his face. "Hey."

* * *

When he asks, her thumbs sweep his cheeks, he holds her face and they both stare unblinking. Blue and green, at once so peaceful, and so very alive.

When he asks, she cries and promises him they are happy, happy tears. The _happiest_ tears.

When he asks, she sighs into him, letting the ferocity of her love push the words deep, lost in his eyes.

When he asks, she says yes.

* * *

He sends her the earrings first thing in the morning, before she's even wearing the dress, with her hair pinned, standing in nothing but her underwear.

Sapphires.

They match the ring on her finger.

* * *

She laughs, bites her lip, covers her smile with her fingertips and fights the giddy rush through her blood, the urge to squeal coming from some unknown place deep inside she's never looked at before.

It's not the same, no where near.

But when the little lines appear on the test - two dark _blue _ lines for positive- she laughs.

* * *

It's a genetic twist that he smirks at, laughs at, teases her for, blames on her entirely, as if she had any choice in their combined fate. No matter that it's perfect and exactly what she wanted. Her body has created the mirror image of the man that drives her crazy, still turns her world - and her heart- upside down. The unruly hair, the eager way he seeks out her skin, the gentle amusement and easy smile.

Their son is a shrunken down replica of his father.

Her heart ignored her all those years ago, and it made her love him anyway, until the truth sunk in and she realized that that was what she was _supposed_ to do. Now her body has given her something she didn't even know she was craving, needing, wanting desperately.

The ultimate gift.

Her fingers run over his face and an arm curls at her shoulder, she looks up. Up into blue, into safety, pride and love. Her thumb sweeps a path across the tiniest pout and she smiles down.

Down at another Castle. Another Castle with _his_ beautiful blue eyes.

The _brightest_ of all the colors.


	45. My honey

Happy Easter one and all.

* * *

**_"Won't you be my Honey Bee, giving me sweet kisses all the time..."_**

* * *

Kate sighed, stretched her arms high over her head and cracked her neck. She snickered as she heard Espo shudder and move away from her, hating the noise. She grinned, watching him walk away and tensed her fingers, cracked her knuckles and groaned in bliss before she eased herself back into the chair.

It was far too early to be working, far too early to be dragged from a warm bed and the heat of Castle's body wrapped around her. Yet here she was.

Working. For Easter.

Kate sat forward, eyed her empty cup and sighed, but she didn't want coffee. She wanted hot chocolate and baggy shirts and curling up on the couch to watch a movie. Easter baskets and the stupid bunny-eared hat Castle wanted her to wear.

She wouldn't have put it on easily, she would have made him work for it a little bit, teasing him, letting him convince her with touches and kisses and whispered endearments, until the brown and pink monstrosity was on her head and that sweet smile was plastered to his face.

She wanted that. Kate sighed again toying with her pen and glaring at the computer screen. She wanted that but instead she was stuck at the precinct, paperwork three mouse clicks away and Kate gave in, pulling up the chain of evidence forms on her screen and opening her email.

She fired off three copies, replied to Lanie and was just about to go in search of something sweet to keep her going when the universe delivered it straight to her inbox.

"What the hell?" Kate muttered, leaning in close and re-reading the subject matter of the email.

_Just Wink - Castle has sent you a card to call your own._

Hmm.

Kate glanced behind her, over her shoulders and out across the desks, towards the boys. The place was pretty deserted, Gates nowhere in sight and Ryan had his head down, his forehead creased as he concentrated. Espo had vanished and that was just fine. The man had a kind of creepy way of knowing when she was up to something, or, more aptly, when _Castle_ was up to something that she found...delightful.

Feeling relatively safe, Kate opened the email and blinked in confusion. He'd sent her an e-card.

The brown background was dotted with flowers and buzzing bees, butterflies and little zippy cartoon lines. Sat in the middle was a white envelope with a cheeky looking bunny stamp up in the corner, holding two Easter eggs in his little paws.

Shifting onto her elbow, and unknowingly pressing herself closer to the screen, Kate covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile.

Silly man. Kind hearted, lovely man.

In the top left hand corner it said From Castle and right smack dab in the middle was a little cloud with three enticing words in it.

_Click to open._

She did another quick sweep, over her shoulder, behind her, all clear.

Go, go, go.

Kate squeezed the bubbling giggle way down deep into her chest, holding it tight and not letting it out, clicking the button.

A new tab opened, the words _Welcome Kate _ bright at the top and a tiny replica of a card in the middle of the screen.

The bunny was bigger now, smiling wide, scarily. Animals with human faces creeped her out just a bit but he was sort of cute, and now she realized he wasn't in fact holding eggs, but jelly beans and she read the card quickly.

_I promise to ALWAYS eat whatever Jellybeans you hate the most._

Those decorative butterflies, zippy speed lines and happy bumble bees danced around her head, into her chest, tickling her heart, like she was a freaking Disney princess.

Kate moved the mouse, dragged the card open and let out the tiniest squeak of surprise.

_That's how much YOU mean to me. Happy Easter._

And there at the end of the card, somehow in his own handwriting, were three words that made her equal parts, mushy and annoyed. Using her words against her, her teasing come back to bite her in the ass.

Those fluffy ears on his head and her little strip tease last night twisted into memory and sweetness and how he felt about her always so very clear.

_My Honey Bunny._

It wasn't her fault, he had plied her with wine and sex and the promise of doing it all over again, and again and again. The words had just slipped out. Her eyes narrowed and Kate didn't realize her fingers had risen to trace the words until she heard the groan at her ear.

"Ugh...Honey B- ugh really?"

She was going to kill Castle, after she had kissed him senseless. Again.

"Shut up, Espo." Kate barked, shutting down the screen before she turned, and he was grinning. Holding out a bar of chocolate and waving it her direction, his smirk bright and happy.

"I was going to give you this, but-" He reached over and tapped her screen, "Are you sweet enough, Beckett?" He snickered.

"Sugar and spice and all things _nice_." She jumped to her feet and yoinked the chocolate out of his hand, turned on her heel and poked her tongue out over her shoulder.

"Skipping out on us boss?" Ryan called.

"Literally." Espo laughed, making her slow down her rapidly tapping feet. She would _not_ skip, not a chance in hell.

"Nope." She grinned and turned again, her cheeks pink, chocolate tight in her hand, "Quick call and I'll be right back."

"Calling the Easter Bunny, Beckett?"

She thought of the fluffy ears on Castle's head as he dozed off last night, sated and sweaty and draped over her in his bed, and she laughed, winking, making the boys groan.

If only they knew.


	46. Close to you

**_"I wanna be close to you..."_**

* * *

Her eyes were weighed down with it, all of it too much, heavy lidded and unblinking they held him immobile, stunned by the force of her gaze.

Across a crowded room she could command attention, in an interrogation she demanded respect with an air of unwavering authority. Here he didn't know.

They were over.

Here, as the cities shadows played out in a flickering mimicry of day across his walls, as they mocked him with memories of _before_ and _then_, he stood transfixed and waiting.

Three steps, that was all it took, three loud heeled strides brought her into his arms and she clung to his elbows, fingers curling hard over his biceps. She held her head angled so she could look, so she could search deep inside him and see whatever it was she needed.

"I don't need handcuffs to bind you to me." Her breath came hard and fast, the meaning behind the words vicious in their truth, their reality. Now their reality was about to change, their partnership was over at her Captain's command.

The ultimate ultimatum.

Her choice, her badge or her partner.

He had been there when it happened and the moment the words had left the woman's mouth he had taken Kate's hand, squeezed it and turned on his heel. Not a second thought.

He had left both women in stunned silence, but now he clung too, as they moved through his home, a dance of limb and memory guiding them and with every step he held fast, letting her speak.

He had turned and walked away and she let him. He had made the choice for her and she let him. Her voice gave over each word with conviction and utter belief. "I don't need rings or promises."

But she would get them, maybe now more than ever, he wanted to give them. He needed her to know it wasn't about the books or the excitement, about playing cop or chasing bad guys. Her, just her and her story. Not the one she wove in his head but the real tale of who she was, the whispered insights shared in triumph and grief, the words that spilled from her lips in darkness and twined themselves around his heart.

Her, just Kate.

Air caught in her chest, throbbed its way through her lungs when she started again, speaking _his_ truth, "Just you." She swore, "Only you."

The rapid rise and fall pressed her into him, chest to chest, and her fingers caught as they moved within his own. Over his palms, their hands joined, knuckles locked until they burnt with the intensity of their grip.

No letting go.

They fell, a slow symmetry of movement bringing them down onto the bed. Their hands, a knotted heart in tangled sheets on either side of their bodies, sliding higher up and over their heads. She came alive, one lithe line of flesh and muscle that settled over him, her head falling into the curve of his neck and finally, unable to hold it back any longer, a sob broke free. No tears, just the long drawn out quaver of panic, resignation and loss.

"I'm okay." He swallowed, taking his belief in the words way down deep into the gnawing pit of his stomach. He hadn't even been in danger, yet she crawled over him seeking something like reassurance, like proof, but there was no urgency in movement, no claiming of skin against skin, no sweaty hard grind of desperate need.

"I'm not." She whispered, releasing his hands and burrowing down against him, letting wrap himself around her. Roll her, hold her, comfort her. "I just..." She swallowed, her hands framing his face, her nose resting tip to tip with his own, "I love you," her eyes closed, squeezed tight until she opened them, so slowly, speaking the words as she did, "I love you _so _ much."

It was the first time she said it.

His hands moved up her sides until they mirrored her own, his thumbs sweeping her cheekbones while he waited for the beat of lashes to open her up to him again. He smiled slowly, lips moving against her skin in hope of drawing the same expression from her. The urge to see her smile suddenly so sharp, like days of old, it burnt within him.

It was the first time she said it.

"You don't need a gun to hold me hostage." He breathed, the words toying with the open line of her lips, "I'm yours." She sighed, fingers tightening and her whole body trembling in his arms.

"You don't need a badge to haul me in. I will be here waiting for you, everyday." His mouth brushed hers, kissing the words into her, the honesty and the hope, all of it, into her. "I'm yours."

He felt the wetness against the tips of his fingers, sorrow or joy, both, "You don't need handcuffs to bind me to you," He agreed, reiterated, understood and savored "I'm _here_." His hand dropped to her heart, covering the erratic beat, claimed once more, "I'm yours." He swore, holding her face again, "And I love you too. So much."

"_So_ much." She echoed, lips parting around him in the softest, most tender of kisses.

Let the night and the shadows do what they would, they had each other.


	47. Love is sweet

**A/N:** Based on a tweet from Castle_is_Life :) Koala hugs LoveJessieLou for your on the fly *in the middle of watching TLADILA* read through!

* * *

_**"The taste of love is sweet when two fiery hearts meet."**_

* * *

It had started out as a joke, one quick text that she had grinned at and then ignored. His somewhat dirty suggestion made her smile and taking that as encouragement he sent another, he never expected her to start answering his messages out loud.

"As long as you don't leave a mark."

He snickered.

"With sugar, but you'd have to get it all off."

Awesome day.

"I like the taste of it. Especially mixed with..."

He was having an awesome day.

"Buckles maybe and heels. Nothing else."

He might even be dreaming.

"I have more than that one _trick_, Mr. Castle."

If he was he didn't care.

"I've never needed one, I'm. That. Good. Or bad depending on how you look at it."

He coughed, choked really. Definitely dreaming.

"Where exactly would I get one of those?"

Fingers flying across the screen.

"That is depraved. And only on weekends."

Not quite believing she was playing along.

"Never on a pool table but if you get one at The Old Haunt I'd consider it."

At work.

"Never on her desk."

Her head down as she typed paperwork.

"Not on mine, maybe on yours."

Her phone hidden beneath the newspaper.

"Yes, I like the vibration."

The screen just visible enough for her to answer.

"As long as I get to do it to you afterwards."

Without once looking up.

"Once here in the gym."

His eyes widened.

"Yes reading your books."

He leered.

"Yes I might have reread that page several times."

Her cheeks were pinking up.

"Pretending it was you."

She swallowed.

"With your fingers."

And she was shifting in her seat.

"I like it when you _watch_."

He fired off another one.

"Usually I just picture you naked in an apron."

He almost dropped it, juggled, caught it, glanced up to catch her smirk and typed another.

"Maybe, if I ever get out of here today, I'll show you."

He could type uber fast when he really wanted to.

"Silk. Double knotted."

Like now.

"Tongue. Teeth. Lips, fingers and thighs."

Now, he really wanted to.

"Oh, the one with- Mmm. _Yes_."

He needed to get her home.

"Not on the rug, last time I had burns on my knees."

Because she was _answering_.

"In the shower and the bath, anywhere with water."

In hushed and beautifully warm, rich tones.

"Ecka.. ha you can't ask me that..._here_, and only if you warm it up first."

Squeaking when he struck a nerve.

"Yes, ahha, _yes_."

Or stroked a fantasy.

"That long? I'm up for it if you are."

Her phone had been vibrating against her thigh.

"Yes, you know I liked that and no I didn't think my voice went that high either."

Again and again.

"I do yoga. I am not double jointed."

Until she moved it to the desk, snuck it under the paper and left it to buzz annoyingly.

"Only if you let me do it to you first."

Loudly.

"I practise knotting cherry stems with my tongue."

He typed.

So did she.

He smirked and she glanced down, her face scrunched in confusion and then she carried on typing.

_Uho._

He narrowed his eyes, waited.

_Uho._

Got nothing.

_UHO!_

Across the room there was a loud deafening crash. Both their heads snapped up and they rose from their seats to stare.

The chair was flung back and two large black-shoed feet flailed in the air, before a very irate and pink cheeked detective jumped upright.

"What did you _do_?" Kate hissed at Castle, eyes like fire as they fell upon him.

"Typo?" He grimaced, dropping back down in his seat as the man drew close.

"Not cool." He muttered, turning sideways as he walked past Castle, glaring fiercely his hands protectively shielding his backside.

He always suspected having Espo filed away under BRO in his contacts - right next to Beckett- would come back to_ bite him in the ass, _ he just never figured it would be in a text message offering to the do the same thing.


	48. Inside is not a heart

_**"Inside is not a heart but a kaleidoscope."**_

* * *

She's wrapped in a sheet, cross legged in the middle of the bed when he strolls through the door, the smile quick and easy as it breaks across her lips. She ducks her head, takes herself just a little out of his sight, suddenly shy there amongst the endless clouds of white pillows.

He falters, his feet arguing with his brain as to which direction they are taking him in and Castle stumbles to a stop, staring at her.

Her hair was tied back yesterday, half of it pulled up and away from her face, twisted and pinned behind her head in an elaborate swirl, but that was yesterday. Now spiral curls fall across her forehead and down her bright pink cheeks, thin whispery strands that end just at her ears, curling and flicking and calling to his hands. The rest still falls in loose broken curls - pulled apart and widened by his fingers running through them, tangling in them - and the sunlight streams in through the window next to her, drenching her entire right side in bright, white light.

The sun divides the beautiful woman sitting up in bed waiting for him, casting her in polar opposites. One iris a flash of gold and wheat in summer, the other a rich blend of finest coffee. One cheek ethereal, the palest marble and the other warm and tan, the color of sweet honey.

His eyes are drawn to the arch of her eyebrow, one more quizzical than the other. He follows the flame of daylight as it tumbles the bridge of her nose, caresses the tip and cascades across the waiting pout of her kiss ravaged lips.

She's beautiful and if he could he would capture her in this moment with more than words, with more than his creativity, more than his imagination. If he could he would take this woman and this image, this moment of time, and cast it out in the world. He would share it, he would secret it away, he would do a million things with it, but then she turns her face into the morning sun and he's lost.

Barely a second of light catches her face before she turns back to him, but it's enough and his mouth opens in wonder. Without knowing he holds out his hand and, without a second thought, she comes.

Crawling from the bed with effortless grace, Kate walks towards him, forgetting the sheet as it slithers free from her body. Her fingers lift to her ear and she touches at the petals of the flower in her hair with a smile.

"Did you-?"

He nods, the key-card and coffee set aside and forgotten as he reaches for her, "You were asleep." His fingers lift a stray curl over her ear and brush the petals, the pad of his thumb recreating the movement over her cheekbone.

Her eyes close, they always close. "Thank you." She whispers and once more they are absorbed in each others silence.

She sighs into him and he caresses the blush to her skin, marvels in the crimson-fuschia flush that highlights the curve of her cheek, the narrowness of her jaw and the long line of her throat. It weaves a path across her chest, dropping down low between her breasts, across her stomach, touching at the smudge of shadows on her hips.

Everywhere here is white. The rumpled bed linen, the windswept curtains that flutter in the breeze, the mountains of pillows, the carpet, the sand outside. Even the sunlight that streams through the windows is white hot. Everywhere here, except this kaleidoscopic woman standing before him, bathed in every color of the rainbow. The echo of blue-red blood rushing through her veins, under her skin, the graze of sunlight sparking new and unknowable shades where it finds her.

She's beautiful, exotic and alluring. She's shy and happy, smiling and open her eyes beaming with love and light.

She's bright white and obsidian black, pink and green and every, every, every single color.

She's golden.

And she's his wife.

He finds the ring on her finger and it swells up inside him all over again.

They got married _yesterday_, on a beach. They flew here, to another beach, to another country and she's his wife.

They are on their honeymoon and the immensity of it overwhelms him, forcing him into action. In two strides he envelops her body, taking her with him through the billowing white gossamer curtains, through the sea breeze and salted air that drifts through the open balcony doors, until he presses her back against the wall and pulls her body tight against his.

He swallows her gasp of pleasure as the sunlight surrounds them, absorbs them, warms them, setting them aglow in contrast to the cool shadow of the bedroom. The rise and fall of the ocean swell plays in the background, the music of the sea their soundtrack, and he kisses every color of the rainbow into her lips. Painting her skin with love.


	49. Tip of my tongue

**A/N:** Thank you for continuing to read, review and message me, I love and appreciate it greatly!

Me to friend: Do you know any songs with tongue in the lyrics? friend (without asking questions) proceeds to send me the most perfect song ever. Thank you honey ;)

* * *

_**"Always on the tip of my tongue."**_

* * *

In retrospect it was sort of, kind of, _completely and utterly _ his fault, so it was only fair that he helped her out. Not exactly what he had envisioned when he made it for her, he had never even contemplated it turning out like this at all, but she had squeaked and there had been pain and really with those faces, those sexy, sweet, adorable faces she made, what else was he supposed to do?

* * *

"Son of a-" She yelped, cast aside her cup like it was toxic and ignored the cascade of coffee-esq lava as it hurtled towards him. He jumped out of the way and spun to follow her, watching as she manically fanned her face.

"Holy sh-" She skidded past him. "Mother fu-" There was a screech and Castle turned to see her fling herself towards the sink.

She turned on the cold water tap and let the water run, grabbed a fistful of her hair, ducked her head under the stream and hissed, then let out long rumbling groan of relief.

"Shit, Castle that was hot!"

He opened his mouth really wanting to comment on _that_, saw her eyes and the flare of her nostrils, thought better of it and kept his trap shut. For about ten seconds. "I didn't expect you to gulp it down like you hadn't seen liquid in a month."

"It smelt good, jeeze. You _burnt _ my tongue." She pouted.

"You mean _you_ did and-"

She rounded on him glaring.

"You've been shot-"

"Not in the tongue." She huffed under her breath, making faces as she puffed out her cheeks, clearly uncomfortable.

"You're having a very _whiney_ reaction to a-"

"Did you just call me _whiney_?" Her hands landed on her hips, that was never a good sign. Even when she was naked that pretty much meant _duck and cover boyo, you're in trouble now._

He set his drink down on the counter and turned back towards her. "No. I said it was a whiney _reaction_."

"Implication being I'm whiney. You burnt my tongue. Jackass." She stepped forward menacingly, clearly hoping he would back off. He didn't.

With a slow steady blink and both hands coming up to hold her shoulders he stepped in closer. "Let me see."

"What?"

"If I burnt your tongue. Let. Me. See." He dipped his head, moving in again.

Kate rolled her eyes, one hand lifting to grip his elbow, "You want me to just...stick out my tongue?"

One corner of his mouth lifted in the deadliest smirk, confident and sexy, his eyes unblinking, staring down at her languidly, "You can unfurl it slowly if you want to, just let me see." The sweep of his thumb did something to the stability of her bone structure and suddenly her _tongue_ wasn't the only thing on _fire_.

Feeling ridiculous she pushed on his arms, "Castle, come on, I just-"

He shook his head, stealing the rest of her words with a light squeeze and somehow convincing her that this was a perfectly sane idea for two grown adults. Pursing her lips together, Kate wetted the seam of her mouth drew her lips apart slowly and let the tip of her pink tongue poke through the gap.

His eyes dropped, following the slow steady reveal of the delicate muscle as it met the cooling air of the apartment. "Don't move." He instructed, somewhat stunned when she shrugged and stayed exactly where she was, tongue still extended, following him with just the flash of her eyes.

He reached behind her for his glass.

"Ut arb oog dooong?"

He arched an eyebrow and her eyes rolled around in sarcastic little loop. "What am I doing?" He laughed, "I'm getting some ice for your burn."

He held the melting cube between the tips of his fingers, bringing it up between them but not moving it towards her protruding tongue. Her cheeks lifted, eyes scrunching at the edges as she looked at him questioningly, but he didn't move. Instead he continued to let the ice melt steadily and slowly against the heated pads of his fingers.

"Too cold can be just as damaging for burns as too warm, or not cold enough." Castle rolled the cube again, tiny droplets of water escaping their frozen home and oozing across his skin, shimmering trickles that she followed as they slid over his knuckle, past his palm and disappeared into the warmth of his wrist. "I think I need to just warm this up a little bit." He lifted the ice to his own mouth, their eyes connecting in a flash and spark of electricity, "Like the other night."

Her fingers tightened and he slid the cube into the inviting darkness of his mouth, memories of what he could do with the cold slice of ice against her skin and the bite of his teeth, the press of his lips all came flooding back. She wasn't the only one with tricks.

His hand slid up her arm slowly, touching at her jaw, angling her head back and he trickled the cold water into her mouth as it melted from the cube. He opened his own mouth, chasing the droplets of cold water with the soothing motion of his cold tongue. Their eyes locked together when the ice-cooled breath left his mouth and danced across her lips, she shuddered and sighed in relief, the length of his tongue still stroking gently against her own.

He kept it up until all the ice was gone before sucking her tongue into the cold cavern of his mouth.

He grinned, internally because his mouth was still lost in the thorough nursing of her burnt skin, sliding his hands into her hair and pulling her closer. It wasn't exactly what he had envisioned when he made her the coffee, but he was to blame for her pain, it was only right he helped soothe it all away.


	50. The real world

**A/N: **50 chapters in, not quite sure how that happened lol but if you're still reading/reviewing along THANK YOU! This one was inspired by the song (obviously) and the fact my minion turns 13 tomorrow!

* * *

_**"Don't go crying to your mama cos you're on your own in the real world..."**_

* * *

It started low in her stomach, this slow, indefinable wave of panic that rose up, surging and rolling through her system leaving her nauseous as it overwhelmed her.

Everything was different.

That was the point, the whole entire point of why she was here, to grow to change to learn and everything was new and different, scary and exciting. And today, today was her birthday, she should be out having fun, causing trouble, but she sat curled at the end of her bed with a book in her lap and her fingers aching from their grip on the pages.

She missed people.

She missed her Dad and the way his arms wrapped around her shoulders, he gave the best hugs in the world, that's what her Mom said. She missed the solid strength in his palm when it cradled the back of her head, the comfort of his voice in her ear. She missed him.

But it was her Mother she longed for now, straight up answers and solutions to why she was feeling this way, reassurances that it was perfectly normal, perfectly fine, something every teenage girl goes through. Or it wasn't and that was okay too, because her Mom would know, she would just know in the way that Mothers do, what to say, how to hold her hand, how close to sit. She would know whether to rush across the room and throw her arms around her or stand silent and wait.

She missed her Mom.

Taking a deep breath she tried to push it all away, to rise above it climb the wall and conquer her own fears, but she felt pathetic. She didn't want to be that girl, her mother was such a strong, capable and independent woman, fierce and determined, surely her daughter should be the same way. And yet, here she was.

Useless.

About to crumble.

She rose slowly, the small room still devoid of personal touches, nothing on the walls to mark it as her own save the mirror and she met her own eyes in the reflection staring back, her mothers eyes, that's what her father had always said.

"There's no_ me_ in _you _ kid," He had laughed. "You're_ all_ your Mother!" He beamed as if it was the greatest thing in the whole world and her chest ached at the memory.

Her Mom had been charging around in the background, getting ready for something, work or a party, something, and she can remember the smell of perfume and the resounding clack of heels. The sharp disparaging tone that had echoed against the walls.

"That stubborn streak has _nothing _ to do with me." She had called, her long slender fingers tangling in her daughter's hair as she walked past, tugging on the end of her braid.

Her father had scoffed. They had argued, her parents, dancing around each other, following each other from room to room, each trying to prove a point and she had skipped along behind, content to listen.

She dropped back down heavily onto the bed and glanced around the room at all of the boxes still unpacked, then she sighed, she was nineteen and this was a lot. More than she had expected, more than she had been prepared for.

She wanted her Mom.

She reached for the phone, pulling her knee up to her chest and drumming her lips with her fingers, she dialled and waited. It took a few seconds, seconds filled with silence that made her wonder if she was being childish, silence that made her question everything.

Then there was a click on the other end and the silence was drowned out completely by raised voices, loud shrieking noises, banter.

The sounds of home.

She smiled into her hand, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Castle residence, master of the- WHAT?"

There was a catcall in the background, an irate dismissal, the teasing tone of family.

"Fine. Master of nothing and no one." He grumbled, then whispered, "Except my own destiny," She laughed as he yelled, "If MY WIFE will allow me that much. Stop rolling your eyes at me woman."

She laughed again and the ache was still there, still bright and filling up her chest, because she wanted her mom, but her Dad, her whole heart burst with love for him. He made her laugh, he made her smile, he drove her crazy with his over protectiveness and his insistence that she explore and invade the world, contradicting, demanding. Loving.

"Hi." She said quietly, and maybe she was her mother's daughter right there in that quiet restrained emotion and gentle smile. She was calm in a crisis and loyal to a fault.

"Hey." His voice lit up the line, suddenly electric with happiness when he heard her speak. "Happy birthday kid, we were just getting ready to-" His words petered out, disappeared into the dark silence of comprehension as her tone dawned on him. "You ok?" His voice flooded with emotion, raw dark and protective.

"Yeah, yes." She lied. There was a deafening, dramatic wail and she could hear her brother shout _happy birthday_ in the background and it pulled a startled laugh from her chest. She heard the _shush, you're just like your father_ comment before it was even spoken and then she said it again without lying, because she was, "Yeah, I'm ok."

But she still wanted...

He hummed down the line, disbelieving, her father with his great, all consuming heart and his ability to understand the stupidest of feelings, the ones she tries to ignore. The ones that she can't even explain herself.

Just like her mother.

Maybe that's why he gets it. "I love you kid, hang on." He sends a loud, obnoxious, smacking kiss down the line, covers the mouthpiece, but she still hears.

Hears him turn and imagines his eyes soft, knows his voice is warm with understanding when he calls across the loft to the one person she,_ their_ daughter, wants most in the world.

"Kate, it's for you."


	51. Married in a fever

**A/N:** I freaking love this song, it's like banter in song form!

* * *

_**"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout."**_

* * *

She puffs her hair from her eyes, shakes her shoulders and tugs on the leather of her gloves. Peeling them from her fingers slowly, she shoves them into her coat pockets and turns to him, her mouth open.

"Breathe." He interrupts, holding up a finger in front of her face before she can speak. The slow ascent of the elevator is doing nothing to help her nerves, in fact it's possibly making her worse, more on edge, more impatient.

She stalks around the little metal box like a caged creature at the zoo. It's kind of hot, the way her coat flares behind her like a cape, how her hair bounces just that little bit shorter and all fluffed out around her face. He shakes his head and tries his damnedest to clear it of the Beckett-haze. He needs to snap out of it, this lovesick giddy thing is going to give them away, and she needs to calm the hell down before they reach the fourth floor. "Breathe, Kate."

She puffs again, exaggeratedly in his face, blowing hot air at him, glaring hellfire, "Didn't help." She grumbles, charging away from him, turning on her heel and charging back again. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

It's his turn to glare, "_Me _? Oh no, this, this-" He waves his hand, "This was all you and breathe."

"Stop telling me to breathe." She marches away again, her hair bouncing with every step.

"Then do it before you pass out."

She rounds on him, "We got...and the boys and oh god Lanie, Lanie is going to flip out, Castle. Not to mention my Dad." She thuds into his chest one hand fisting in his lapels, "What did we do?"

He smiles widely, his hand dropping over her own."We eloped. You said _'let's get married right now, Castle'_ and we eloped."

She turns to him, her eyes wide as if she's only just realized. "We got _married_."

"In a _fever_." He grins wider, his skin still tingly and flushed with the warmth of just being able to _say_ it. Married, they got _married_!

"You know?" Her hand slides lower over his chest, tripping over his belt "I married you Castle, but I swear to god if you start singing country music right now," Her fingers flex against the inside of his thigh and she squeezes making him yelp. "I will be able to sue for an annulment on grounds of failure to _consummate_."

His voice is high pitched and squeaky when he responds, "We...ahhahh" He clears his throat, captures her hand and pulls it up to his lips, kissing the soft flesh of her palm and unconsciously seeking the ring. "We consummated it enough last night for three marriages."

"To be exact." She scoffs, poking him in the chest not needing a reminder of those that have gone before her.

"Not what I meant, god my wife's _feisty_." He grins again and pulls her in towards him.

"Don't call me that in front of the boys, or Gates."

"I make no promises."

"Castle." She pleads, her fingers drifting across his jaw.

"What? I like it."

It takes a few seconds but she smiles, he pulls it out of her oh so slowly that when that beautiful happy smile blossoms across her face he can do nothing but answer it with one of his own. Grinning widely at her, he presses in close and kisses her soundly on the lips.

"It will be fine, Kate." He soothes, leaving her lips with a sigh of regret. The palm of his hand falls into the small of her back, holding her tight against his chest. "Just..."

"What?" She asks, turning into his side, hiding the blush of her cheeks in the crook of his neck.

He thumbs the ring on her finger with a smile, "Might wanna hide this and-" He hip bumps her playfully, tracing the band with the pad of his thumb. The bell above their head dings and he breathes into her ear on a whisper. "If someone shouts out _'Castle'_, let me be the one who answers."


	52. Falling in love

_**This feels like falling in love, falling in love, falling in love.**_

* * *

Dawn breaks on her first night in his bed, her body light as a feather when she sighs and drifts back to his side, sated but nowhere near sleepy, just needing to feel him close. She wants to feel him in her arms, listening to the room settle around them, listening to the world adjust.

Her hair floats around her face and her lashes flutter, tingles of pleasure flittering like butterfly wings across her skin, prickling hotly in her veins and the paper thin wisps of white cotton sheets tangle against her legs.

Dappled sunlight leaks in through the windows and pitter pats across his skin. He's warm under her fingertips, breathing heavily and staring at her like he thinks any moment now she'll disappear.

He drinks her in with his eyes wide, love and lust and truth and peace finally, finally filling the deep and blue and endless void of his iris. She wants to kiss him. She wants to catch a little bit of that infinity of love and passion and swallow it down deep inside, her hands holding his face, holding _him_.

She rolls, her chin falling onto his shoulder, her fingers spreading wide and slow over his chest. She's never seen his eyes so blue, not in all the years she's known him, not once in the midst of every kiss they've ever shared. Not during a quiet moment alone or whilst holding hands and leaning into each others sides in front of their friends and family.

Not when she said yes. Not when they said goodbye. Not when she came back.

Here, in this house, in this bed for the first time, she sees everything, everything spilling from those translucent depths of aquamarine and sunlight, and she breathes him in. Inhaling deeply, her head leaning in towards him, the remnants of love and moonlight playing over his body, everything of the night they shared together touching at his skin.

They fit together perfectly, sweetly, side by side and her body seeking out all the parts of him that she has missed, everything, until they are wrapped together, tight and soft, holding on. Warmth lingers between them, coiling around their muscles. It clings to the hairs on her arms and to the broad curves of his shoulders when he pulls her closer.

Her leg lifts, knee sliding against the length of his thigh until she reaches his hips, draping herself across him. Her lips touch at his, tasting his kiss slowly, "I like the bed." She murmurs, feeling him smile against her and her eyes close, not needing to see just now but needing to _feel_ it all.

"The bed's the same." He mumbles, his fingers cupping her shoulder and curling around to hold her elbow, pulling her closer still. It bleeds from his eyes in the morning light, how much he loves her, how glad he is that they're here. She can feel it against her skin even with her eyes closed, it emanates from him so strongly.

"I know." She whispers, pressing her chest to his so she can feel his heartbeat against her skin. The soft white cotton sheet becomes a sail in the breeze from the open window as she pulls it higher, lets it fall and settle over their entwined bodies.

"I like the house too." Her hand cups his jaw and she opens her eyes then, nudges his nose with her own and presses her forehead against him.

"Really?" Relief lights his voice, little sparks of morning sun weaving through the word and touching her heart, making her smile again.

"Yes really."

"Even though..."

She shakes her head, it's forgotten, they're here together and that's enough. That's more than she deserves or expected. "Even though D.C didn't work out."

He lifts his eyes like he's testing her, checking she's really okay. Okay that after they sold her apartment and she moved he bought a house and gave her a key. Okay that after the job turned out to be everything she despised about her work, she came home to him and found him already living here, in their house. "I was impulsive."

Waiting for her.

"Mmmm." She hums against his jaw, insinuates her leg between his own and rolls her body slowly, "I liked that part most of all."

He growls, moans and pulls her mouth to his, kissing her deeply until his moan is tickling around her toes and she's on her back, her fingers in his hair. "Kate."

"I like the house." She says again, "And the bedroom and the bed." She kisses him again and again, tasting his laughter, feeling the happiness on his skin, "I _like_ the impulsiveness."

She doesn't like it, she loves it. Loves the way he's started diving into their future, showing her the way it should be if she just trusts him and falls. The way it will be.

He does it again now, in their bedroom, in their house.

He kisses her like he knows, like he understands and that he can feel their new beginning as much as she can. He kisses her like it's the only thing he wants to be doing, like he's falling too.

In their home and their bed, he surrounds her, his eyes hold her own and he drowns out the rest of the world with the press of his body, the taste of him and the feel of falling. Falling into him. Falling in love all over again.

And now she's started, she can't seem to stop.


	53. Kissing like Eskimos

**A/N: **Yes, I'm a sap, sometimes I need to be. Also, this song...GAH!

* * *

**"We're kissing like Eskimos, it's a little bit much, I know. I do."**

* * *

He's pretty certain he's supposed to speak. Words are supposed to be coming out of his mouth right about now - not just gulping fish sounds - and people are waiting to hear them.

She's waiting on him, an anxious flare of color darting across her eyes when he opens his mouth and _nothing_ comes out.

He's got_ nothing_.

Eyes are on him, apart from hers, maybe, really, yeah a lot of eyes. Possibly an entire rooms worth of people have him locked in their sights, waiting with baited breath for whatever will come tumbling out of his mouth.

But there is nothing. Nothing.

His words have left him.

Nothing exists in this time and space, except for her.

Kate.

He can't take his eyes off her, can't find the words, can't move his tongue to speak them or even remember his own damn name. He supposed to be suave and sophisticated, supposed to sweep her off her feet and she's stolen everything.

She knows it too. He can see it in her eyes when they dart sideways, relief at first for whatever she finds when he looks at her, then mischief and finally, maybe, _always _, a little anger. She's mad that he's leaving her hanging like this, but she can't just walk up to him dressed like _that_ and expect him to form sentences.

It's like he's stumbled into a black and white movie and the only spark of color is _her_. She needs to give his eyes time to adjust, his brain time to catch up with his pulse and his heart needs to just...beat again.

White and gold, flushed pink in her cheeks and across her chest, her skin calling to him so loudly his fingers clench and he presses his lips down together, hard.

They're so close, close enough he could kiss her, touch and hold and reach out and pull her in, but everyone's waiting for him to speak her included.

Her eyes seem to pulsate with meaning, the pupils darting from him to the man next to her, back again, with a quick shake of her head when he doesn't get it.

Alright, what? He's dense today, denser than normal but she's just - and he can't -

"Man asked you a question, Castle."

She speaks slowly, smiles at him even slower, the corners of her lips unfurling like petals from some exotic flower he could never name and just like that, color floods in. It emanates out from her and reignites the room, bringing light and air, awareness following on their heels and he hears the tinkle of laughter from those behind them.

Oh, right, there are other people here.

"He did?" Castle makes himself swallow past the rush of emotion and tears his eyes away from her, has to physically force himself to quit staring at her and turn away.

Maybe he should close his eyes for the next part, just to get the words out without getting lost, but he keeps tight hold of her hand, never letting that go again and he can't bring himself to do it. He can't close his eyes, can't miss a second of it.

"God, you're such child." She groans quietly, the smile so bright through her words he can hear it, feel, revel in it without having to turn again, without having to start the whole process over, ripping his eyes from her so reluctantly it hurts because she just looks so -

"Pay attention."

"I was." His hisses, risking a quick glance back at her and...seriously? Wow!

"Not to me."

She's crazy, must be out of her mind. "Never gonna happen." His eyes follow the dip of her dress at the front and she groans, digging her elbow into his side, proud of herself when he yelps.

"As I was saying-"

Castle lifts his eyes, nods sedately to the man in front of him, and squeezes her fingers.

"Do you take this woman-"

"I do."

He interrupts and her head drops forwards like she knew it was coming, shoulders shaking, and an entire sweep of curled hair chasing her laughter as it tumbles from her lips.

She shakes her head, turns, and looks up at him with the biggest brown eyes he has ever seen, no poetry needed to describe them, dark and liquid with love, overflowing with it. Happiness right there, shining from her like a beacon guiding him home, and_ that_ smile. The one he loves more than he understands.

Just like her.

The woman he loves_ more_ than he understands.

More than one heart should be capable of loving another person. More than he can comprehend when she catches his eye and flashes her pupils at him in warning.

He's doing it again. Getting lost in her.

Screw it, he's allowed today of all days. Staring at her creepily is his - or will be his - legal right. He's going to enjoy it.

He turns towards her slowly, loving the promise that lingers there, a little bit wild in the wet sparkle of her eyes, a little untamed and something he definitely wants to get at later, but right now he just needs her closer.

His fingers find ivory lace, his thumbs sweep pearls and the heated stretch of her bare back. She didn't even attempt to play fair with the dress, did she? The tiniest buttons, a corseted weave at her waist, lifting her breasts, leaving her back, neck and shoulders completely bare under the fall of her hair.

Not fair at all.

The smallest tug brings her in close, one hand lifting to cup his neck and the other thudding into his chest bringing the scent of flowers straight from the tips of her curled fingers.

His nose sweeps her cheek as he nuzzles in closer, foreheads pressing so close together he can hear the cascade of breath leave her lips and touching his own.

Their noses brush, Eskimo kisses until the real one. The one that seals the deal.

He smirks when her eyes open wide like she can read his mind, challenge and fire and _wait til I get you alone_ all simmering away, like champagne bubbles popping between them.

"Still not paying attention." She grumbles, rebellious and teasing, every inch of her pressing into him and he shifts his weight _just so_, just _enough_ to make her gasp and understand he is paying attention. To the important things.

Like the feel of her in his arms. Like her fingers kneading and tangling in his hair. Like the lovely view he has down the front of her dress and the growl at the back of her throat that reminds him he should lift his eyes from her cleavage, especially with all these people (and her Dad) watching them.

And just like that his words come flooding back.

"Anyway she'll have me." He whispers, his voice loud enough for the entire world to hear, but the words spoken just to her. For her. For later and writhing naked in a twist of white sheets

Like the promise of forever.

And _always_ and _until tomorrow_ and _goodnight_ and a million cups of coffee that will fill the gaps in between. Like sharing showers to _save_ time, and doing it again just to waste it. Like waking up with his hand coiled protectively over her stomach and promises of a whole other kind barely sparking to life but changing absolutely _everything._

"I will."

Like the simplest of things.

The way their noses brush and their foreheads touch. Like the way her eyes flutter closed against his skin and somehow he loves her just a little bit _more._

"I do."


End file.
